Desperate Measures
by GrimRabbit
Summary: KotOR retell, directly following 'What Dreams May Come.' LSF Revan.


**Desperate Measures**

The dying Sith Lord was lugged on the back of a Jedi as they fled to their shuttle. Jedi Bastila needed help as well, and received assistance from a rather young, fresh faced Jedi male, with wispy brown hair. He had an arm around her waist and his eyes were wide and scared. They made it off the ship a full minute before Sith fighters hit a fuel tank and the whole thing exploded.

By that time, the Jedi shuttle was well behind friendly lines and hurtling towards a Republic ship to dock with. They were safe, or, as safe as they could be with a Sith Lord struggling for breath in their medical bench, each new intake of air stronger than the last. The rookie Jedi who had helped Bastila began shaking. Bastila, who was sitting across from him, looked up. "What?" she asked, primly, tensely, bluntly. It was devoid of her normal tact, but there was destruction in her mind's eye. He looked up suddenly, startled.

"She's getting stronger," he said, feeling the Force within Revan's body swell. Bastila smiled weakly.

"Listen closely, Jedi, to her breathing. The lung was punctured, you can hear the fluid," she responded. Had she called him Jedi, and not his name, Kaylor? She didn't have much experience with the dying, how did she know the sound of a punctured lung? But, sure enough, when she listened closely, she could hear a slight gargle that wasn't from normal saliva pooling in the mouth or mucus from a clogged nose dripping down. It had a resonance to it that meant the sound came from something much deeper than the mouth or the throat.

"But… but the power she is gathering. She will kill us with her last breath," he stammered. Bastila curled one lip at him, at his weakness, at his youth, at his straying from the Jedi code. It was an emotion that was purely hers, but the gesture was not. She could almost count it down, the energy buildup.

"This is not darkside or lightside, Kaylor. It is survival. Wait for it," she said, softly. A moment later a crisp white light flashed briefly around Revan's would be corpse. The breathing eased, but the gurgle was still there. And, energy began building up again. "She healed herself."

"But… but if she heals herself…" he trailed off, leaving unsaid what the Sith Lord would do if she awoke in the presence of young Jedi Knights who had been sent to kill her.

"We had her on the run. We can handle her if she wakes, weakened," Gabin Tripp said, confidant. Darth Revan had taken them all on, at once, all four. She had killed one, before she began panting, heading to the offensive. Moments before the shot came in from behind her and showered shrapnel and plasma over her, she had grinned and started to say 'Play time is over,' but… Bastila closed her eyes at the memory of burnt flesh and singed metal.

"Don't get cocky. Even injured, the Dark Lord is a powerful enemy. Do not let your guard down around her," Bastila cautioned. Gabin flashed her a sickly smile and nodded. He knew they would have died there had Darth Malak not intervened. The shuttled rocked its passengers, signaling that they were docked in the Republic ship. "They cannot be allowed to even guess what we have here, too much is at stake," Bastila said. The other two Jedi nodded quickly.

**Chapter One**

_Dantooine_

The Jedi on deck demanded that it be sealed off from all other contact. The Republic captain grudgingly complied, unhappy with the thought of wasted space in such a critical time. Bastila kept guard while Gabin contacted the council. The response was obvious: bring her to them, immediately. As a side note, they were congratulated for not killing Darth Revan and they conveyed their surprise that they decided not to do so.

Collaboration with Republic forces on the ship helped them set up a faster, long distance freighter for their trip; as well as an intensive care unit/prison for Darth Revan. 57 of energy expenditures for the entire ship were devoted solely keeping Revan from escaping. Life support and kolto regeneration was kept at a minimum in order to keep the Dark Lord asleep until she could reach the council chambers. Bastila and Gabin left alone, leaving a grateful Kaylor behind.

"The council was astonished we kept her alive; even further impressed that you healed her. You know, that means we should have killed her. That they would have killed her," he said.

"If that were true, then they'll kill her when we get there. And then we'd all be wrong," Bastila said, holding to her moral high ground. There was no more argument for the rest of the trip. By the time Revan was transferred to a Master's personal medical area, she was awake. But not coherent. Her speech was muttered, confused, mixed. One Master described listening to her as a frightening mash of Jedi and Sith. A mantra that was repeated was a slaughtered version of both codes:

There is no emotion; peace is a lie.

Through knowledge I gain strength.

Through strength I gain serenity.

Through serenity I gain victory.

There is no death; the Force shall set me free.

She begged forgiveness, begged for death, begged for the eternal why of why so many had to die due to her. And she raged, she burned the place and the Jedi down with words over and over, killed thousands with a turn of a phrase, promised vengeance. By the end of the day, she was laughing, telling anyone in hearing distance of how she had set herself up for the long fall, how every word and every step and every breath they took she had choreographed years ago.

The council convened, allowing Jedi Bastila to listen in on their hearings mainly because of her part in bringing the monster in the other room to them. She was not allowed to speak. Vrook began the discussion by offering the first option of what to do with Darth Revan. "We should kill this menace now. Any she kills from this point on, should we not act, is blood on our hands. It is our obligation to the people of this galaxy to remove this threat once and for all."

"Do not be so hasty, Vrook. Within Revan's mind lies the keys for us to win this war we are loosing," Vandar hedged.

"Then let us tear the answers from her head and be done with it," he snapped back. Zhar held a hand up and spoke calmingly.

"Now Vrook… we tried. We cannot get anything out of that steal trap, even if it is disjointed and broken. We need time, friends," Zhar said. Vrook let out a minorly frustrated sound and began pacing.

"She cannot be contained. She is a force of nature… a destructive force!" Vrook said, continuing in his pacing. Bastila let out a quick laugh.

"Oh, Vrook. Have you spent all your time chasing me that you didn't bother to look for a way to find me? That's precious, with it hiding beneath your nose like this," she said. The assemblage all paused, their eyes drifting slowly to Bastila in equal parts of shock, fear, and consideration.

"There is a bond between them," Vandar began.

"Yes, it can be sufficiently walled up to prevent mistakes like this," Zhar said, taking up the train of thought.

"And would allow Bastila to see what she has seen, allow Bastila to know where she has been," Dorak finished.

"This is madness. This will not only lead to the Dark Lord back in power, but one of our own as her newest disciple!" Vrook exclaimed, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Killing her has a high probability of killing Bastila as well," Zhar reminded him.

"Better that she die a Jedi!" he roared back. Vandar shook his head.

"It is a high gambol, but one, I think, that is necessary."

"And what precautions do you plan on taking?" Vrook asked, arms folded over his chest. Vandar paused a moment, then smiled grimly.

"We erase her memory, plant something new and plausible, cut her off from her abilities as much as we can, and send her off on our mission." Vrook raised on eyebrow and considered. When the details were finally laid out, Bastila was charged, due to valor and displayed compassion, as Revan's guardian/keeper/jailor, willingly or not.

**Chapter Two**

The members of the Dantooine council gathered around the revenant of a person like children gathering around a camp fire. At least one of the great Jedi masters was shaking outwardly, and all were trembling on the inside. Would this act change them, this horrific if necessary sin?

If I had taught them anything, it was this moment, this hopeless and dark deed, that not all things that are dark are bad and not all things that are light are good. That grey exists. That necessity breeds all sorts of desperate measures and that all saints are sinners. I had built my life around these principals and I forced it on them, on them all, the kind of gruesome only options that weigh on a person until they realize some hard truths. Mainly, suffering exists, and sometimes the only way to end suffering is with more suffering. And still….

"Listen to me! This is worthless, time consuming; it will lead you nowhere and not deter me from my course," I raged. Was I afraid, me in my magnificent fallen grace? Yes. What if I had miscalculated, what if I hadn't staged this, what if I would go and never come back? Dying I could do, I've been faced with that before. But this… it was like a destruction of the soul, like dying and then ceasing to exist, no joining with the Force, nothing. They weren't out to kill me, they were out to destroy me.

"It is necessary, Revan. If you had left us other choices," Vrook began. Other choices? If you spent any time listening to me, if you tried to understand. If you hadn't failed me so completely, from the beginning of time. Am I automatically beyond redemption to the point where not only do you make no attempt, but rather commit this atrocity?

"Choice?" I hissed. What choices had I had? What choice did I have now? There must have been things I could say at this point, things to sway them. I could recite the Jedi code; I could engage them in the tired philosophies of the light side. But, I was confused, I was dazed, I was broken upon myself and there was no room in my mind for eloquence.

"Vrook…" Zhar began, hedging, hesitant, reconsidering. I think he saw me then as the girl I was when I first came to the order: starved, disillusioned, filled with a hate that had no outlet, vulnerable.

"We don't have a choice. It's the only way!" Vrook snapped. He had been skeptical at first, but once the plan had been laid out he grew to its defense. I think he wanted to hurt me because he had believed in me once, despite his constant berating.

"It's the path to the darkside," Zhar responded. I was jerking ineffectively at my restraints, too weak to do much. I may have been whimpering. Zhar wavered, ran a hand across my forehead.

"Zhar, this is the only way to save the Republic, the Jedi Order. We are merely getting rid of a Sith Lord," Vrook said, finally catching on to the compassion behind Zhar's complaints. Good reminder, it's okay to hurt her, she's just a monster. Vrook turned to me and I thought his eyes seemed a little sad. "Revan, this is going to hurt," he said softly, and they joined hands around me.

The pain was excruciating, like having your entire head blown off your body by a shotgun and you still being aware to feel it. They started pealing: memory, ideology, opinion, personality, reflex, self. Nothing was left unscathed. By the end, I was literally a different person. Well, in theory. I shucked off most of the chains they placed on me quite easy, and it wasn't long before I began to shine through. It took a long time, though, to heal, and even longer before certain parts of my brain began working again, particularly the creation of new memories let alone conscious control over the Force. No wonder there was a time they wondered if I would ever truly heal from the degradation to my body. Bastila knew, though, even from the beginning, that I would rise whole.

**Chapter Three**

_The Conqueror_

I woke slowly, snuggled into coarse covers that didn't seem, in the least, like mine. None of the sounds seemed familiar, either. Not the light snoring of my roommate, the tick of the clock on the wall, the hum of electronics around me. I opened my eyes to a new world, staring at the brown lamp in front of me and the raven haired woman beyond that. A quick glance around the room led me to an open door to the fresher. I slipped in and showered in the cramped and too well lit room.

I got out, thought myself dry, exited the room and held my arms out for my robe. And blinked when I realized I was standing naked, facing my roommate, dripping wet. I lowered my arms, still frowning in confusion. She smiled at me, snatched up my robe, and put it around my shoulders. I quickly wormed into it.

"Arga. I'm not used to the Conqueror, either. My old roommate used to braid my hair," she said, handing me a towel.

"The bathroom seemed cramped; the sheets coarse." She laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing like the Correl Spearhead. I hear the food available for soldiers there is sublime," Arga said, and I thought I sensed unease. Correl Spearhead, Republic flagship. It was vaguely familiar, in terms of clips of a bed, a bridge, and a workout room. Had I been stationed there previously? "So, where are you from?"

"Deralia." The answer was quick and I tried vainly to remember what Deralia looked like.

"I'm from Taris. Have you ever been there?" she probed further, given strength by my responses. Taris, city covered planet, multileveled, anti-alien, bustling.

"Yes, but not in a while. Busy planet." She grinned.

"I know. Hey, we've got a while before we reach your destination, the Endar Spire, and we have the time off. What do you want to do?" she asked. Endar Spire, Republic space station, in orbit around Taris, training post and refueling spot. Notable personnel: Captain Hargin Lenan, deceased; Admiral Yashna Miridi, deceased; Admiral Rotte Winsome; Captain Carth Onasi. I wavered, placed a hand upon the wall to support myself.

"I'm not sure," I said in response to her question. She hedged.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I know you got in really late last night. Why don't you get some more shut eye? If you need me, I'll be in the mess hall," she said, slipping out with determination that went beyond food, or maybe I was just suspicious by nature. What was I, by nature? A headache started behind my left eye and spread quickly. Nausea and dizziness set in soon after. I walked over to the bed with its coarse sheets and tried not to think. I soon sank into the blissful sleep where dreams could not intervene and pain was a dull, forgotten memory.

I was woken several hours later by Agra returning. She was humming cheerfully, and loudly, I might add, but she sounded annoyed. "Hi. I'm Arga," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you." I blinked at her.

"I was awake when we met earlier, you know. Name's Morgan, if I didn't introduce myself fully, then. Anyways, you got any painkillers? My head is freaking killing me," I said. Arga gaped at me. "What? Are we not allowed non-prescription drugs?" Her mouth moved like she was trying to come up with some sort of response… but it was wordless and soundless. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"No, no, that's not it. I, um, I was later told you hadn't slept for days so I'm kind of surprised you were awake." I frowned at that; I didn't feel tired as much as achy. I tried to remember this lapse in normal sleep but that same persistent headache returned. I shrugged at her and was about to mention the painkillers again when she cut in. "Oh, right, painkillers. We don't have any, but I was supposed to go get our allotment of meds, so, I'll, uh, do that now." And then she jittered nervously out the door. I found Advilin in the bathroom, took two, then grabbed up the closest datapad and tried to piece together what I was supposed to be doing.

Arga Samsara burst from the room and pressed her back to the corridor just beyond, shaking. Bastila was there waiting for her, and she looked sideways at Gabin Tripp. "Okay, I owe you money. All medical tests said it wouldn't be today that her brain began producing the hormone for her to start recording memories," Tripp said with an easy shrug. Bastila smiled grimly.

"The tests said it wouldn't, but she said it would. Arga, what does she remember?" Bastila asked. Arga shook her head, still trembling from being so close to a recovering Sith Lord. But her time was almost over. They had been circling a close by planet for days, always having it be 'the next day' for the fallen emperor. 'Soon.' They chose the Conqueror and the Endar Spire because these were new installations, and Revan had not been to them before. They wanted nothing to remind her of that life.

"She has a headache and wants some painkillers," Arga said suddenly, like the news was somehow important. "She also had a headache last night, as well. I'd figure she'd be having back and joint pain, all things considered." Bastila shook her head and was about to explain when Gabin Tripp did so for her.

"Well, how do you keep a dog from pulling on its leash? You give him, or her in this case, a choker collar. Revan starts to try to remember her past and whammo, instant pain," he said, smiling. Bastila felt sick.

"She's still a person, Tripp," she snapped back at him.

"Barely," Arga said, cutting in. "And I am soo glad that I get to be free of her as of tomorrow."

"Is she ready for the Endar Spire?" Bastila asked. Arga shrugged.

"She remembered where she was, who I am, and her position, or so I gather from how she's acting. She asked if non script painkillers were okay, and I know some ships do prohibit soldiers from acquiring them in order to force people to go into their local medbay to get checked at first."

"And she's currently reading her assignment list, checking into what her assignments will be on the Endar Spire," Tripp added, tapping into the information being requested by Revan's datapad with only minor hesitation at the speed of which she was processing the information. "Let's get on with it, Bastila," Gabin said. Bastila frowned.

"You only say that because you want to get back to Dantooine to wait for us. You're not the one who has to feign ignorance and request she be our personal gunner. We don't even know where to start looking for the secrets to her empire and Taris hasn't helped like it should have. We're going on rumors, rumors she visited this backwards planet before she was taken down. But, whatever. Let's head on to the Endar Spire."

**Chapter Four**

_The Endar Spire_

We made it to the Endar Spire in a day, most of which I spent sleeping or writhing in pain from migraines. After throwing up both breakfast and lunch, they gave me a prescription for something. I declined on dinner. And not just because of my incredible upchuck streak. The food here was bland, normal, refined, preprocessed. Something in me knew this wasn't my normal cuisine just as I knew that food on a Republic ship was food on a Republic ship. I sincerely doubted the Correl Spearhead had better food.

So, I figured maybe I ate at the captain's table or something. Correl Spearhead, previous flagship of Republic army. Notable Personnel: Captain Taboo; Captain Fergie, deceased; Captain Apl, deceased; Admiral Kli Muir, deceased. This created yet another horrible headache, in which I was told that it was allergies, you know, these new ships and their new air filtration systems with not all of the bugs worked out. Yeah, okay. Anyways, beyond the pain thereof, which could honestly been spurred by the horrible food, I kind of got a glimpse of some hot, nicely toned body parts. A quick picture search left me looking at some really cute man who died years ago. There was friendship, fun, a little bittersweet. So, I logged it in my mind for further notice, packed my rather sparse belongings and headed over to the Endar Spire.

I had no pictures, no civilian clothes, no trinkets. And, sadly, no booze. I'm definitely not an alcoholic but there was something in me yearning for a mind alteration. I stare out at the black abyss and wish to be oh so suddenly swept to a different time and place. I had an odd dream last night. I was standing, calmly, and I could hear sounds of fighting but nothing touched me. My back must have been to it. I wondered when I'd turn around and be drawn into combat. I guess I'll get to that in Morgan's Creepy Dream part Two.

I unpacked quickly, which was easy due to my lack of items and glanced around the empty, two bunk officer's room. Trask Ulgo was on the opposite shift, so I'd never get to see him or have him see me walk from the shower naked. Thankfully, I think I'd gotten used to not having my former roommate dry me. What was her (his?) name? Cynchia, no face, no memories. She was blond, peppy…. Yeah definitely.

I sat, trying to acclimate to my surroundings. I felt… something missing from the search, but it did well enough. Bathroom, bunk, weapon chest, light. My eyes closed of their own and… I was left in the silence of my own mind. But that was normal, right? _Yeah, for a non Force user._ But… that's what I was. I grabbed my trusty datapad and looked at my schedule. Then at the clock.

"Buck!" I dashed out the door and, constantly looking at my datapad for a map, made my way towards the officer's mess hall. Where I was supposed to be for an inspection of roster crew… about eight minutes ago. I slipped in, darted to the end of the line, and was in form as Admiral Winsome passed… barely. He noticed, oh, he did.

"Cadet?"

"Yeoman, Sir, Greye, Morgan," I said in true military fashion. This, this was finally comfortable, this rigid structure, the strict discipline, the break neck straight posture, the thrilling fear of being addressed by a senior officer. Yeoman? The barely officer? Not sure that fit, but hey, maybe I was a draftee.

"I see, Yeoman Greye. Tell me, what makes you special not to be here on time? Did you not wish to see my smiling face?" the Admiral asked, earning himself several laughs from the other crewmembers.

"Couldn't be that, sir," was my quick reply, which elicited more coughing laughs and badly disguised humor on the part of Admiral Winsome. He was cute in that well aged, mid-fourties, primly groomed way.

"Be on time next time, Cadet," he said, and made his way back to the other end of the line. When he was finished with his presentation, he had the resident advisor speak. Captain Carth Onasi, decorated war hero, seen more combat than most veterans of the Republic Army, widower. His speech was a quick 'I'll be holding classes on piloting at so and so a time,' with 'be careful' as a finisher. I only half paid attention. It was like a high, small chime was tingling in the back of my head, clanging against something unseen and unseeable. I quick image floated past my mind's eye that involved Captain Onasi flatteringly nude.

I blushed and then realized he was walking toward me, or, more appropriately, the door. He placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned towards my ear. "Nice answer," he said, referring to my sarcastic quip to the Admiral. I was smiling to myself as he walked out of the room.

"Do you find something funny!" the Admiral shouted, either at me or at us all.

"Sir, No, sir," we all said in unison and were promptly dismissed. I headed off to my normal chores for the day, which involved something else achingly familiar: repairing droids. I tinkered the day away with no grotesque headaches and sauntered back to my room for exhausted sleep.

**Chapter Five**

A klaxon sounded but only after I managed to smack the shit out of my head against the edge of my night table and open an inch long gash on my forehead. I glanced around the well lit, double bunked room and was confused. The door opened and some blond with a buzz cut and a weathered look about him entered.

"We're under Sith ambush; the Endar Spire is under attack," he said, shouting to be heard over the klaxon.

"Endar Spire?" I asked, with a small voice. He didn't hear me.

"Get your gear, we need to rescue Bastila!"

"Bastila?" My head, which previously only ached broke out in fierce shooting pain. As I was clutching at it, I saw a weapon's locker and remembered my clothes were in it. Reality snapped back into focus. Endar Spire, Republic space station, in orbit around Taris, training post and refueling spot. Current post. I dressed and armed myself quickly. Blades seemed more natural than anything else, but the sword was standard issue and lacked a certain… indescribable finesse. And my other hand felt empty. I'll have to pick up another sword along the way.

Blondie and I headed out. Trask, was that his name? He was an overzealous individual, heart and soul for the cause type, admirably stereotypical. He gave a rousing speech for the man who issued the call to arms, Carth Onasi. Onasi, now why is that name familiar? We came to a junction, one way went where we were headed, the other to destruction. And destruction wanted to follow.

He had Sith flunky written all over his bald head, flashing that red lightsaber in typical showboating fashion. Something kicked dark and primal in my brain, the swell of strength and reflex built on battles well won; I saw him as a flicker of nasty purple light lost in the immensity of my darkness. "Hurry, I'll hold him off," Blondie said, and a door closed between me and my prey. I blinked, Morgan Greye, Republic soldier, escape pods, and hurried on.

"Damn it, Bastila, we can't wait any longer. We need to leave!" Delos, a novice Jedi Knight, pleaded, struggling to be heard over the alarm. Bastila stood, immobile and tense for one moment longer and sighed. "Trask will do his best to see that she at least has a shot to make it to the escape pods, but this isn't helping anyone to sit around waiting for death."

Of course, if Morgan didn't make it to the escape pods, Bastila's life was already over. But there was nothing, at current, that she could so. So she piled into the escape pod and left it in the hands of the Force.

He seemed surprised when I entered. But then, considering the odds…. The escape pods nearer to the junior officer's sleeping halls were destroyed first, and the ship was littered with Sith and dark Jedi. Furthermore, due to constant bombardment, flying shrapnel and fires were rampant across the ship. Everyone who had been in the dorms had been killed, as well as most of the working crew. I was one of three junior officers to make it to the escape pods; the other two had been working maintenance nearby. I was also the only person to make it from the port side without being severely injured or gasping from smoke inhalation. All in all, I was damn lucky.

And, I remembered who Carth Onasi was. Resident advisor. Flatteringly nude. "Everyone else is gone," he began. _Or dead_. "Let's get going." We crammed into the escape pod, with him poking at my head as we blasted off. "Looks like you have a concussion," he said, just before we hit a chunk of debris. His airbag fluffed right up. Mine waited several bumps to do so, but I was unconscious by then.

**Chapter Six**

_Taris_

I turned towards the sounds of fighting. Four prim, young Jedi knights stood in the doorway, fanning out around me. When will the old Masters learn? When will they stop sending me children and step up to the plate? I cut a swatch through one, injured another of the foursome. Then, I toyed with them. Quick flashing blades, long handed strokes. The brunette princess wasn't bad, but there was a kid among them who was just plain awful. The other man was so obviously the eldest of the group, but would forever be held back by a lack of Force potential, despite all of his wisdom. How sad. I'd kill him rather than leave him to that fate. It's the only polite thing to do.

The brunette had stepped up to the plate. I batted her about, despite her quick wit with the blade. I had just knocked them all back, when I jerked awake, blinking in the harsh light of a bedside lighting strip. There was a man above me, and he jerked back when I opened my eyes, smacking his head in the process.

He was cute in a roughened sort of way. Wavy brown hair, warm eyes, rough stubble along his squared jaw. He definitely had a warrior's body, easy to see even if he was wearing bruised leather. I knew him, I did. But it was like trying to get a speeder started when the battery was dead. You can try all you like, but it just wasn't kicking over and starting up. By it, of course, I mean my brain.

He rubbed his head and looked chagrined. "Sorry. You've been out for a bit, and you started thrashing again. You've smacked your head enough, I'm sure. You had a concussion even before being battered around in the escape pod. Can you sit up?"

I took the information, sitting up slowly. My head ached fiercely and movement seemed vaguely unnatural. I'm not sure what I looked like, swaying and pale, with unfocused eyes. He handed me a glass of something that looked like juice and several pills that are always unmistakable. The liquid was like gold on my sore throat. Had I been screaming, too? How embarrassing. I glanced sideways at my companion. "Captain Onasi, Carth…. Just call me Carth," he said, clarifying because the title made it natural for someone of low rank to address him as such. Yeoman, first class, current post: Endar Spire. Well, most recent post. The Endar Spire was so much charred metal by now.

"You helped. Thanks," I said. He grinned, I think more thankful because I remembered something than for the gratitude that he waved off.

"Think nothing of it. We should get you checked out. There's a hospital nearby," he said. I blinked, slowly, trying to piece out where we were and how we got there. "I dragged you from the wreck. There was an apartment building nearby. We're in an empty room. Previous tenants made a real mess of the place, and the landlord who caught me sneaking in says we're welcome to it if we can just do a little repairing while we're here. Which is good, because I needed something to do when I was holed up waiting for the search squads to leave. They still do sweeps, but it's lessened now. We should be okay to go out and search."

"We need off of the planet. But we need to regroup with anyone else first," I said. He nodded, like he was impressed I grasped the situation so quickly. Well, if it's one thing I know, it's survival. I frowned and thought on that. How much surviving does a yeoman get into? The headache that had been fading away under the onslaught of medication flared.

"Hey, take it easy. I don't know if you get any sun, but you're pretty pale as is and you just got paler. Here, let's get some food into you; that might make you feel better." He left me on my bunk and I heard him rattling around in a kitchen, heating food given to him by a neighboring sympathizer. He came back out with two plates, handed me one, and we ate in silence.

"Things are spotty. I'm having trouble remembering things," I said at last. He nodded.

"I'm not surprised. You've taken several bad blows to the head. Don't try to push it too much; let it come on its own," he said between bites. The light peppering of concern was reassuring, made me think he wasn't lying through his teeth which I generally assume of most people. "Do you feel up to scouting about?" I nodded. Now awake, I was filled with jittery energy. Which found outlet as soon as we stepped outside and into the Sith raid.

"Lovely," I said, dashing towards the shooting droids. The blade dinged from a deflected shot and then I was there. A few quick swipes and both droids were decapitated and sparking and I stabbed the man just below the ribs as he caught a blast from Carth's blaster. "Guns are such inferior weapons," I said, grinning at him. He tossed me a medpack for the injured Duros, shaking his head.

"Yea, except for when you need someone to run interference as you close the distance to actually be able to fight them," he shot back. I shrugged. We helped the Duros lug the bodies off and exited the apartment building, meandering through the streets. "I caught a rumor that other escape pods landed in the undercity. Hopefully we'll find Bastila there. We'll have more information once we get to the lowercity, if we can reach it. The elevator is guarded… with automated turrets as well as a sole guard. I thought about it," he said.

"Yeah, well, there are so many guards wandering about as is. I say we jump one and steal their armament."

"Sure, except that there are so many guards about," he said.

"Okay, okay. We find another way to fleece our way down. It was just a thought. Cantina, pub, bar, or other social gathering place?" I asked. He smiled like he didn't want to and nodded, pointing out the path. "So, what about you?" I said. He frowned.

"What?" he asked, honestly confused. I closed my eyes for a two second period and sighed. The man acted like he didn't have a gorgeous body and poster white teeth.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Onasi," I said. He shot me a suspicious look and shrugged.

"What about me?" He sounded defensive. Didn't anyone ever hit on him?

"Well, beyond the fact that you are a horrible conversationalist, I know nothing about you. Looks like we're in for the long haul, so I thought we'd get to know each other better." I gave him a sidelong look, skeptical. "If that's alright with you."

"Oh. Well, okay, if I can ask you a question."

"Shoot."

"Isn't it a little, I don't know, odd that you managed to survive?" I blinked. How flattering of him. "I… that came out wrong, it's just that you were requested by Bastila just before the Endar Spire went down."

"Really?" Who's Bastila? It took me a moment to remember Trask mentioning her, Jedi, battle meditation.

"Yes. I mean, why? What makes you special? What's your position with the fleet?" Again, how very flattering of him. I frowned.

"I'm just a soldier. Average grunt," I said, automatically like some sort of shield held up between me and… what?

"Still, it's very unusual that you just happen to be one of the few survivors," he said, and there was something belligerent in his tone. I stood there for a moment, staring at him.

"Man, I'm going to have to get you drunk. You need more than just to lighten up," I said finally and he glared. "Seriously, talking to you is depressing." He turned away and started off towards the cantina again. I shrugged, followed, and enjoyed the view of his backside. For some odd reason it was like a cold, hard lump in my chest had dissolved when I woke and I felt carefree, jittery, and even… happy? And Mr. Serious was having too many issues trusting me to actually be lying to me. In an odd, twisted sort of way, it was refreshing and comforting. Now, logistically, I knew this sort of thinking was in some way not natural, but hey, it worked for me.

It wasn't much later that we ran into a bunch of thugs roughing some poor guy up. Carth, naturally, wanted to help. I wanted to stretch my muscles, so, I was game. They were easily subdued (bashing over the head with the hilt works nicely), and their victim was off on his way with a hundred donated credits. "You know, we should really start watching our funds. We don't have very much in ready cash and you have no manner of armor on," he warned, always to err on the side of caution. I tossed him a hundred and two credits picked from the thugs' pockets without a word. He glared.

We entered the cantina and the music washed over us in a thick wave. I started swaying immediately, smiling at my grumpy companion. He tried to look reproachful through that unwanted grin on his face but I wasn't fooled. "It's good to have you feeling better, but knock it off."

"Three Tarisian ales later and you'd be dancing with me, Mr. Onasi," I shot back. "They have quite a punch to them."

"Yeah, well, I'm horrible at dancing so we're both better off," he said. "Let's spread out, see if anyone's selling those 'costumes' we need." He pulled out his wallet to give me an allotment of money for some food while here but I held up a pouch jingling with credits. "Where did you…?" He stopped. "I don't want to know."

"Many, various talents. Pickpocketing. I'm off to try my luck at Pazzak, which I will doubtless win big at or steal back in some other form," I said. I was having some trouble understanding the conception of money, like it had meant nothing for too long. Was I a thief? Soldiers with the fleet don't get paid much. Maybe I was old money. I couldn't remember, but it seemed important.

"Yes, handy talent. Just a soldier, huh?"

"Oh, I also deal in the black market. Be careful not to get on my bad side, or you make wake up sans a kidney one day." I grinned and waited until he finally laughed. He didn't want to laugh. And I had gathered by now that he didn't want to enjoy life. I tried wracking my brain as to why that might be but came up empty.

He disappeared into the smoky air and I sauntered off. True to form, I was good at cards and won big, or so I was told. I was also ordered about by a snobby little tart, but I eventually stole money from her, and a makeup bag that had to be industrial sized. Honestly, who needs that much makeup? I found a guy who had Sith expendable soldier written all over him. Like a sailor at a port of call, he was trolling for nighttime companionship. And, he was eating out of the palm of my hand in mere moments.

When Carth finally found me, the flunky had his hand on my thigh and was kissing my collarbone. Captain Onasi quickly began scowling. "I'll see you tonight, yes?" Yun asked me, but his look was directed at Carth. It was smug, condescending, and challenging.

"He is _such_ a bother. I can't possibly leave brother behind, but I can ditch him in a corner. We'll be there." And Yun was smiling when I slithered off. Carth was still scowling when we left.

"While you were busy flirting, I found no one who would sell us Sith uniforms. Everyone's too afraid to steal them," he said, sounding disgusted with both me and 'everyone.' I couldn't help chuckling. "What's so funny?"

"I asked about too. And I won us about three hundred thousand in misappropriated funds." He was a bit taken back by that.

"Oh, well…" He trailed off. I raised by eyebrows at him.

"Furthermore, if I want a night of meaningless intercourse, it should be no concern of yours," I said. He was frowning again. "But, that was not what you saw. He's a Sith patrolman. We're going to his party, and we're going to steal his uniform ourselves. So, keep your jealousy to a minimum and let me handle things." He fumed.

"I'm not jealous. And the plan is rather stupid; we can't draw attention to ourselves." I smiled then.

"We won't. Just leave it to me."

"Why do I not like the sound of that?" I laughed. I felt… more like myself than I had in a long time.

**Chapter Seven**

She was in a prison of sorts, blocked from sense and sound and reality. But I could reach her, easily, willfully. She opened those brilliant, warm grey eyes and blinked at me, devoid of expression.

"Padawan Bastila. Child," I began. The force of her personality filled in those sparkling eyes and she frowned, confused.

"Revan?" she said, almost dreamy.

"Taris, Bastila. We are on Taris. The Endar Spire, you remember?" I asked. She nodded.

"I cannot fight my way out of where I am. I am being kept unconscious, asleep. Will someone come for me? Is anyone else alive?" she wondered, more to herself than to me. I smiled, gently, benign.

"I am. I am coming for you, child," I said. Her eyes snapped to mine and widened in the beginnings of fear. "Yes, Bastila, unworthy one. I am coming for you. I look forward to meeting you, Murderer. I wonder, will I know you at sight, will I be so moved to kill you?"

"I didn't murder you, Revan," she said, defiant and petulant and fearful. I smiled again.

"Worse, Bastila. You unmade me. Let me see if I can unmake you," I said. "Let me teach you, let me show you." Her eyes widened more, true fear. I wasn't after her mind, I was after her soul. "Let me destroy you."

"NO!" we said, as I bolted awake. Carth had thought I wasn't fully recovered, that I was pale, and that I should take a nap before our excursion that night. He looked curiously over at me. I shook my head. "I can't remember the dream. That's… odd," I muttered.

"You really are recovering from some major damage. I was surprised you woke up at all. These nightmares, though…" he trailed off, like he wanted to say more but now wasn't the time. It was okay, I got the message of suspicion he left in the void of his words. I gave him a tired smile.

"Well, if they're bad enough to wake me, I guess I'm glad I don't remember them." I walked off to the fresher, returned with the makeup case and emptied it on the bed. And stared curiously at the lot of items like they were foreign implements. He laughed at my expression.

"Let me help," he said, and rifled through the items. It was obvious he was thinking of someone else as he applied makeup to me. I'd have minded if he hadn't been so gentle. It sort of told the story for him, but I'd let him tell me on his own time. "So, what is the plan?"

"I'm going to get him so plastered he won't remember what the hell happened. Maybe even tell him I saw someone toss his armor down the garbage chute. After he either pukes or passes out, we make off. Also, I'm going to make good on my promise. I'm going to get you drunk." He laughed, again, and it seemed easier for him this time. Success, I had made progress.

"We'll let's get going." I gave him a look. "What?"

"You're not wearing that, are you?" I asked. He looked confused.

"Loose the jacket, change the shirt for something tighter, and I won't say anything about the pants." He grumbled but complied. I put on something I swiped from a shopping bag near the chair of a similarly built woman. It was a vibrant red, lacy, and made me seem less pale, brought out the blue in my eyes and the color in my pale hair.

"Where did you… right, stolen. Did the makeup come from that snotty little daddy's girl?" I nodded. "You know, pickpocketing _is_ a good skill to have." I grinned back and we were off.

The party was noisy and in full swing when we got there. My mark for the evening was on a couch, not very sober anymore. I sat close, one leg over his, and started pouring him drinks. Before long, I had gotten him into a drinking contest with a sober female officer and considered him done for. I wandered towards Carth, untouched drink in hand. I handed it to him.

"That's not funny," he said, taking a sip. "Oh, it's sweet. You know, I'm not a cheap drunk," he warned. I smiled.

"Good thing I'm not paying then." Not long after Carth got dragged into the contest, with no urging of my own, I assure you. Well, not much. So, I watched them all get drunk with the ease of a person who had too much experience not drinking at parties, planted all the right suggestions, made off with two uniforms likely to fit, and steered a drunk Carth home. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Oh, no. I'm not, no. Not telling you nothing!" he said, only sounding half like he meant it.

"Well, tell me something then," I began. "Why are you so suspicious of me?" I asked, already tugging off his boots.

"I've been betrayed before, by someone I trusted," he said. Tell me something I don't know. "Mentor of mine, name's Saul. Leader of the Sith fleet. I coulda," he began, but stopped himself. Could have stopped him before he killed your wife or significant other, I finished silently in my head.

"I'm not the one who kicked you, Carth."

"Yeah, well, I don't plan on being 'kicked' again," he muttered belligerently, just before I tucked him in. Men. I slept mostly undisturbed except for a dream that was becoming familiar, fighting a brunette Jedi. I woke before he did, so I was able to use the fresher first. He was awake (and hung over) when I got out.

"Let's hit the cantina again to grab some fresh food before heading down, maybe find a weapon shop and a place to get some medical supplies."

"Sounds like a plan. I've found both a medbay and a gear shop when I scouted earlier." He paused, looking almost… bashful. "Did I… do anything last night?" he asked. I almost broke out laughing. Was he serious? Unlike so many people who go, have fun, and don't regret it later, he had to worry over nothing. How much boy scout was he?

"Like…?" I asked, only grinning a little. Oh, the beard hid it well, but he blushed. Most interesting, BoyScout was thinking impure thoughts about yours truly? I couldn't help it this time, and started chuckling. "Don't worry, Mr. Onasi, my body remains unplundered for this trip, though not for lack of trying on Yun's part. You, however, remained the perfect suspicious gentleman. Which is very insulting, mind you," I said. He started chuckling, shaking his head and we headed off. "So, can we talk? I have some questions for you."

"I'm all ears beautiful."

"I know I started it, but I'm serious."

"No, no, go ahead. Interrogation is my middle name." He got defensive quickly, despite all my witty banter.

"A simple 'no' would have been fine," I said, probably sounding defensive and hurt. Mostly an act, but if a small (and blond), attractive female sounds hurt or bursts into tears, males tend to act differently. I mean, I knew Mr. Killjoy had hang-ups about trust and friendship and all that good stuff. So, it didn't make sense to me to be hurt over it though at the same time, it made a lot of sense to seem hurt. Pain makes everyone assume you're not lying. Maybe that's why I trusted him.

"I'm sorry, I just. I'm not… I don't…" he trailed off.

"Eloquent. Very. When you figure the words past that paranoid block, let me know. I mean, honestly, if you can't even figure out if you want to tell me what kind of music you like then…" I began, full of my usual pomp when he cut me off.

"Alderian Jazz. Coruscanti Rock." Just that, those few words. And I had gotten Mr. Carth Onasi to begin trusting me.

"Man, you are sooo uncool. That stuff's old. The new rage is Twi'lek pop," I said. He made a rather disgusted face and we ended laughing our way to the gear shop. Idle conversation was nothing if not ordinary, but with him it was probably something rare. Priceless. "You get that blaster upgrade and I'll install it," I said, picking through the offered items. "And here, let's get some armor for you to wear instead of that disgusting jacket."

"Hey, what wrong with my jacket?"

"It's battered, old, and worn." I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"And, it's orange," the proprietor, Kebla Yurt, added. I picked up a red armor and 'ooh'ed over it.

"No," was his flat response. I puckered out my bottom lip. "Still no," he said, and grabbed a plainer, stronger armor.

"So, how long have you two been together," Kebla asked. Carth almost dropped the premacrete detonator I asked him to hold for me.

"What!" he asked. Kebla and I both laughed.

"Boy Scout doesn't know what women are," I said by way of explanation. He gave me a bland look.

"You have my sympathies," she said, and we laughed at Carth again. I pointed at Carth.

"Don't drop that detonator," I said.

"Do you even know how to use one of these?" he asked. Stupid question. I grinned my response. "Why do you even need one?" Um, mass destruction somewhere? I just kept grinning as I added two blades and some lightweight threads to the bundle and purchased them. "You should have gotten some heavier armor," he said, with a little doubt that I could effectively use such. I could and yet… lighter wear seemed more natural somehow. I was a career soldier, a grunt, well used to surviving and… I preferred robes? But all the breastplates I tried on felt more than just unnatural, they felt unsafe. Which was weird, and I knew that.

"Styling, man, I like styling," I said, the crap answer. He saw it for what it was but just shook his head. We hit the medbay next, bought some supplies, got a mission, found some comrades that wouldn't be coming back with us, and traded words with the flunky at the door. All in all, rather uneventful. I did, however, catch a passing rumor from some thugs that I was beginning to recognize as 'Davik's thugs.' Something about a Twi'lek that was wanted dead by the crime lord.

It made me dislike Davik and want to help the Twi'lek. Which was how I lost my big kaboomie device. "Do you think Kebla…" I began, but he cut me off.

"NO!" I think he may have been uneasy with the thought of me having explosives. I just wanted them as a backup plan if the elevator thing didn't work. "I don't know how you learned to work such explosives, and I know we're on the same side and all, but I would much rather you not have something you could blow a hole into a street with."

"Wimp."

"A safe wimp, thank you," he said sternly, but his eyes had those crinkles that said he wanted to laugh and would have if he didn't want to not laugh more. So we headed back to the cantina and he ordered us meat that once had wings attached before it was deboned, skinned, battered, and deep fried. He also ordered something that was not Tarisian ale or coffee. The thought of me on coffee also seemed to scare him. Perish the thought.

"I'm so hitting Manaan before the year is out," I said, prattling on, idle conversation.

"Yea, you need a tan," he shot back. I raised my eyebrows.

"And you need to loosen up. Maybe a toxic mud bath will ease the tension right from you," I shot right back. He tried glaring. "They have other treatments; even surgery to remove the stick from your…."

"Careful or I may put that stick somewhere else," he said. I waggled my eyebrows and he laughed again. "I think hanging out with you long enough will be the maximum amount of relaxation I'll ever need." Which was off topic, but flattering coming from someone holding all his pain so close to his chest. We bantered on and I made him promise to buy me a bathing suit to help me gain color to my pallid skin. I actually was really pale. Didn't Republic ships have mandated UV in their lighting system? I puzzled this as we descended into the lowercity of Taris.

**Chapter Eight**

Malak faced his broad viewscreen, only half listening to the murmur of conversation swirling in the air around him. He was staring out at Taris, wondering where Bastila was. And, why she would go to Taris. He and Revan had hit Taris just months before his previous Master's timely demise. Revan. Something caught on the edge of his blunted perception, something vague and powerful and undefined. It gave him pause and for a wild moment, he thought he heard a very familiar voice.

The last time he saw Revan, before he killed her, they had argued. He had struck back, lethally, knowing her moves and killing patterns, while she was aboard a ship in the thick of melee fighting. He knew he had gotten lucky, with any time or planning she'd have more than just suspected something was afoul.

He could still hear her words. "You are weak, Malak. Ungraceful, uncouth. I constantly wonder why I keep you alive, my pet," she said, her voice light, airy, mocking. And with their history, all the years they had served side by side, growing up together, for her to say that to him. He also knew that a true Sith lord was unbothered by such things. So Darth Revan couldn't have been a true Sith lord. He had been right to topple her. "Of course, I keep you, Malak, because I'd be unable to find anyone else who would worship me like you do."

Which was true. He had killed her, he had emerged triumphant from his rage, but he regretted. Revan was a cunning animal in battle, fierce in all aspects of her life. She had once slaughtered an entire troop for daring to injure him… and that was before her graceful fall. She had been everything a Sith lord, everything a person should strive for. He was not worthy to replace her. The might of the Sith empire was not to be determined by luck alone. And yet, he felt if he just listened closely, really hard, that he could almost hear her.

"Not that I don't like grey, or anything," Carth was saying as we stepped off the lift. He was teasing me again, on the grayish tint of my skin. I probably should have made him turn around as I changed out of the Sith armor. It just didn't seem important to me, probably the result of too much co-ed bunking. "You're also way too thin," and this time his voice was colored with a touch of worry.

"You keep talking like that and a gal might get the wrong idea," I said. He looked like he was about to rise to the bait when a bunch of smelly thugs screamed some sort of obscenity and charged towards us. They were quickly left limping away with their opinions manually changed. "Attacked in like three seconds… my kind of place." He shrugged, but I oddly think he was agreeing. We found an apartment complex and set up shop in a new room there, stolen from a nasty woman who had paid bounty hunter written all over her.

We then decided to hit the cantina and learn more about our whereabouts. Almost immediately in the door another bounty hunter ended an argument with thugs, pausing to give me an appraising look. And while he had a predatory look in his eyes, like a lion would look at a wounded gazelle, I couldn't help but feel amused. Even though he was obviously very good at what he did, and what he did was kill people for money, I watched him like he was nothing by a gnat trying itself against a flame. He left, we continued on. I didn't even get a suspicious glace from Carth, which was amazing.

A plucky little Twi'lek was more than willing to help fill us in on lowercity news, even after being attacked by several slimy looking thugs. I was beginning to think this entire 'city' was covered in greasy hoodlums. The Twi'lek slunk off with her furry bodyguard whose name I didn't bother to learn and we followed shortly after. "So… we have to hit up the nicer gang lord to figure out what happened to Bastila's pod."

"Bastila? You've mentioned her as a priority twice now. And you said she requested me, in particular. Tell me about her," I said, trying to picture the Jedi. Plain brown robes, I imagined, puckered face. Middle aged. Somehow, the image didn't sit right with me. Grey eyes.

"She's a Padawan Jedi, but has mastered the art of Battle Meditation. It's really useful in battles, helps coordinate the fleet. It's like all of the individual ships are really, really lucky, you know? I haven't really seen it up front myself, I'm told it's amazing to see. We need Bastila if we're going to win this war," he explained, and I figured out two things from his speech. One, while he obviously admired the girl and the Jedi in general, he wasn't entirely pleased with them. And two, he didn't know Bastila at all, maybe had a light association with her. If he had known her, I'd have gotten more than rumors from him. Bastila. _Murderer_. I paused, straining to hear… what? My own imagination? Still, I was from then on determined to meet this Jedi.

I was about to comment when we ran into more thugs. Sigh. These thugs were conducting business, Davik thugs and Black Vulkar gang thugs. Is it sad when you begin to be discerning about your thug types? Yes. Carth sighed and motioned me aside. "Let's let the ruffians do what they need to do before heading on," he said, as obviously annoyed by the plentiful stupid muscle as I was. The Davik thug whistled, bringing out his secret weapon. The Black Vulkar's nearly wet themselves and scurried off.

I have to admit, I was a little entranced by the Mandalorian. It wasn't the rippling muscle, deep voice, or moderately tight pants. I think it was the eyes, the way he held himself. There was a clash of weapons in my head, the satisfying crunch of bone, exhilarating pain, strain of muscles. I had to have been in the Mandalorian wars… but I was a yeoman, so, that was near impossible. Still, something in me recognized him, recognized that he wouldn't die easy, wouldn't be easy prey, wouldn't disappoint. I was already walking toward him when he spoke to the other man, "Pity, I could have used a good fight," in that raspy voice of his.

"Quality over quantity, any day," I said. The other thug left, his business done. He seemed a little unnerved by the Mandalorian, and I obviously wasn't helping his ease of mind. The Mandalorian laughed, a quick bark of amused sound.

"True. Name's Canderous. The Black Vulkars can't fight worth squat, and the damn Bek's stay in line. Still, there are some hazards to be found about," he said. I nodded, hoping what he said was true. I could use a good fight myself.

"Well, I should be going now," we both said. We smiled at each other and headed our separate ways. Carth, I noticed, kept looking behind him.

"Oh, don't tell me. You're not afraid of the big, bad Mandalorian?" I asked, honestly amused. Why was I so damn entranced and everyone else afraid? Maybe I was mental, or something.

"I don't like Mandalorians. I fought in the wars before you were old enough to hold a sword," he said, just a touch testy. I shook my head, laughing.

"I'm not that much younger than you, Grandpa, and you had better mind your manners around me. Black market trade, and all. Kidneys fetch a good price on Taris," I said. He tried frowning at me but ended up laughing all the same.

"You've always got some answer, don't you?" he asked. Well, I hadn't been caught unawares as of yet. I shrugged. It didn't take us long to barter with the woman at the door to head on in to the Hidden Bek hideout. It didn't take us long to barter with the blind man inside, either. We found out that Bastila was a prize to be won in a race and that we needed into the Black Vulkar base to be able to win that race. We also found out that we needed the Twi'lek we just left a while back and that she might be found even lower. So, we headed on down to the undercity, to plunder some escape pods and look for a thief.

**Chapter Nine**

Gabin Tripp felt ill at the news he had to impart to the council. He only just heard, but he feared the worse. A few of the masters were loosely gathered in the courtyard, arguing. Gabin stopped before them and waited for their acknowledgement. "The Endar Spire has fallen. Word is that some escape pods managed to deploy before the station exploded, but Taris is now an inhabited world. Bastila…" he began, but stopped, unable how to say it. Bastila had not absconded with her precious cargo yet. Bastila and Revan had still been onboard when the attack happened. Zhar shook his head and looked towards his meditating companion.

"Padawan Bastila is alive, Jedi Tripp, but Vrook senses something is amiss. He says he felt… Revan's power swell for a moment. Her aura fluctuates," he paused. "No, her aura strains at the bonds placed upon her. I fear the person we created will easily give way to the person that was."

Gabin paled in the bright morning light of the Dantooine courtyard. Bastila was trapped on a foreign world with recovering Sith lord that was straining at bonds Bastila helped create. When Revan woke unto herself again… she was going to be pissed. And Bastila was going to be nearby.

We were stopped by some no name Sith troopers (read: thugs in shiny uniforms) and since they didn't have any rakghoul serum we moved on to loot corpses. Rakghouls were actually more fun to fight than the average thug, so it turned out the Mandalorian wasn't lying through his teeth. Zelka Forn, Republic sympathizer and doctor in the uppercity medlab, had asked us to bring him the serum. Naturally, Carth agreed. There were also people in the undercity proper that also wanted the serum. I helped boyscout treat them and promised him we'd visit Zelka next time we were in the uppercity.

All in all, the whole trip was getting tedious, from the muggers at the entrance to the crazy calling me his savior. And Mission. We finally found the damn Twi'lek and she had lost her furry bodyguard. The sewers were crawling with Gamoreans and there was even a Rancor to be found. Which promptly made the whole thing worth the trip.

I made Mission, who insisted upon coming, take up a blaster and stay behind Carth. She complained but did as asked. Carth proved very good in wounding things before they got to me, so that they went down rather easy. He also felled the ones who wanted to trade blaster fire from farther distances. Mission might have helped, but she was still shaken from her earlier encounter. I wasn't really paying much attention to her, though. I was definitely in battle mode, and enjoying every moment of it. We got to the rancor, and I was detailing a plan when Carth got the good idea to steal someone else's plan. So, we made the monster eat a bomb, which is far less fun than fighting it.

They both gave me odd looks when I voiced that, so I shut up and let Carth lead the way for a bit. We looted more when we got inside the complex, and I found the journals the crazy asked me to find. Neither of my companions would touch the dead body, though, because it was too decayed for them. Oooh, rot, how scary.

"You totally are creepy. Are you like some super secret Republic assassin?" Mission asked. I shook my head.

"Nope, just a regular soldier," I said.

"I am now suddenly afraid of pissing off the Republic if you're ordinary," Mission said.

"Well, she's a regular soldier. She's not ordinary," Carth said, half suspicion, half praise. I glanced at Mission.

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an accusation," I said. She grinned.

"Me neither. Men can be so damned confusing."

"Yes, and I'm sure you'll avoid us when you grow up," Carth shot back. Immediately Mission started in on him with the 'I'm not a little kid' thing. I let them bicker as I worked a lock. Turns out that along with pickpocketing and slicing, I was also good at lockpicking. I was probably a better thief than the Mission herself. Whatever.

The Wookie was as large as he was the first time we saw him in that cantina, but he was unarmed, he looked haggard, even a little scared if you knew what you were looking for. Most people couldn't read Wookies, let along understand their language. Mission broke her fight with Carth, squealed, and jumped on her tall friend, complaining of his smell and seeming otherwise oblivious to it. It's shameful to admit, but I had a hard time seeing the Wookie as a person and I was beginning to think it wasn't because he was a large, furry alien. I felt a little detached from everyone, even Carth seemed like some chess piece in a larger game.

It finally sunk in, I had saved him, and his eyes met mine from behind a sheen of hair and moisture. He fell to one knee, pledged himself to me. Mission prattled to Carth about the significance, but that stance meant only one thing across cultural barriers. Submission, loyalty, allegiance. Worship. I let out a wailing keen, as close a humanly possible to sounding like a Wookie, and answered him in his own language, accepted. And I didn't have to be adept at reading Wookies to see the surprise, gratification. Respect. He rose in a motion that was way too graceful for someone of his size to have and nodded his head at me.

I supposed Zaalbar became a person to me as we headed towards the shielding. I asked random questions and he avoided them with the aplomb of someone well used to not answering questions. He had his own story and the pain therein kept him from sharing. Still, I hit him up with several jokes that made no sense to anyone who didn't know the language and he growled out a laugh for me.

"Well, the shield's down, we're going to head into the Vulkar base. You guys should head back to the cantina or something. We'll meet up with you," I said, offhanded, heading in.

"Wait a second. I'm coming with you!" Mission said. "You saved Big Z." I gave her a confused look.

"Look, this search is to save someone you don't even know. It doesn't make any sense for you to come if you have no motive," I tried explaining.

"I owe you, Human," Zaalbar moaned out to me. I frowned at him.

"My battles are my own. I'm not getting anyone else into my shit," I said. The words clattered against something ugly in my head. I wanted to send them away, send Carth away. As chess pieces, they were expendable and easily killable. They were cannon fodder, human shields, and I didn't hide behind anyone.

"Your battles are my battles. And I'd rather not leave Mission alone, she has a knack for trouble." I glanced at Carth.

"I agree with him. Besides, we can use the help," he said. We can use the help? For what, defeating a few stupid thugs and stealing something? I shrugged and we journeyed onward.

**Chapter Ten**

Getting the part from the Vulkars was stupid easy, no complicated fights, really. And when the blind Gadon insisted that I would need to go alone to the race, I didn't argue. All the concerned teamwork was making me antsy. I was better when it had just been Carth, because the man knew how to handle himself. But Mission was a kid, really, and Zaalbar might have pledged himself to me, but that didn't mean I had the right to get him killed. Unfortunately, the race was several days off, so we tied up some loose ends in the mean time.

I swear, Boy Scout managed to help every unfortunate soul with a problem. We cleared the bounty list, and not all of it was from such fun things as killing. The miserable people in the undercity followed the crazy out, hopefully to brighter pastures. Zelka got his serum. And, I dueled. I was the disputed Taris champion. And I wanted to fight Bendak. It was okay to kill him for the bounty, and it had been okay to fight duels as long as no one died, so why was it a bad thing to kill him in front of a lot of people? He was a cruel man, killed indiscriminately.

Of course, that wasn't why I wanted to fight him. Bendak had trained professional written all over him in bold print. He moved like menace and looked at people in a way that you knew if you saw his eyes, there would be nothing there you could talk to. I had met the Mandalorian again in the undercity, and with him it was shared battle. With Bendak, it was something new, something about him said he'd been tested, but it hadn't been by me. I wanted to prove him wrong.

So, after a little bit of whining and all the right reasons trudged before Carth, he consented to allow me the match. He wasn't sure about it, but I think he caught the way Bendak Starkiller looked at me. And I'm sure he thought there was something sexual in that predatory gaze. There wasn't, not really. But fighting was like nirvana to us, unparalleled experience. I killed Bendak, collected on his bounty, collected on the bets, and looted his corpse. And, oddly, this was satisfying as hell, but I hid it well enough.

I got ready for the race. Carth wished me luck, told me to be careful. "If anything goes wrong, return here immediately and we'll figure something out from there," he said, obviously thinking I either wouldn't win, or that someone would steal Jedi princess away.

"Nothing will go wrong," I assured him. He snorted.

"Something always goes wrong," he said. True, and I think we were both realists enough to believe that. I shrugged.

"Okay, fine. Something will go wrong, but come hell or high water, I'll be coming back with Bastila."

"What? You're going to cut down thirty racing thugs at once and lug the unconscious Jedi back here by your lonesome?"

"I'll think of something. Just let me handle this," I said. And I think he remembered the first time I said that because he laughed and nodded. And then, I was off. The cot the racers had me sleep on was crappy, and the blanket was threadbare. I woke rather achy from shivering so bad. One of the racers suggested I get some fat on my bones to insulate me. I glared and he shut up. I was feeling kind of lightheaded, like something was vaguely wrong with the world… or with myself, and I couldn't put my finger on it. I raced. I won. Someone beat my time just barely, and I raced again. And won better, being that it wasn't my first time around the track or first time handling a speeder.

The Black Vulkar leader was a prissy little man who got all defensive as soon as the results were in. Called me a cheater even though he wanted to use the super cool device himself. Cry me a river. My eyes wandered to the Jedi and I let myself truly look at her for the first time since I had entered the room. Her luscious brown hair was ruthlessly tamed into multiple partitions and two thin braids. Her eyelashes were long, crescents on her flawless cheeks. But the eyes, I wanted to see her eyes. _Look at me._ She blinked, her grey eyes hazy and disoriented.

I didn't have time then to think of what just happened. Did I just command her awake? Brejik, the prissy Vulkar leader, attacked me. Everyone else ran off; and, the Jedi and I were left to fight less than thirty racing thugs. I cut through them quickly, and even thought Bastila was unarmed, so did she. I looted Brejik's body and found her lightsaber. I twirled the hilt like it was something familiar, frowning as I did so. I turned to her then.

"If you think you can claim—," she stopped abruptly, staring at me in shock. She stammered something to cover, about how she recognized me or something. When she asked why I was there, her voice was more than a little strict. I tossed Bastila her lightsaber before speaking.

"I had to race to be able to save to you," I said. She took offense.

"Save me? Is that what that was? Well, you're lucky I was able to get past that neural disruptor or they'd have left you for dead," she said, but her voice was a little shaky. Somehow, Princess, I sincerely doubt anyone would have left me for dead. _Murderer._ An image swirled before my head, Bastila, leaning over me, looking haggard and bruised and frantic. I pressed a hand to my head.

"Look, we can fight later. Carth's waiting for us," I said, thinking less of Carth and more of my bunk in the nice little uppercity apartment. She bade me take her to him, like it had been her idea to begin with. I gave her a rather amused look and we headed off.

_Look at me._ Bastila opened her eyes, groggy, unsure of where she was and what was going on. And then she saw Brejik, and the race track, and all those unconscious whispers made sense. She had been a prize to be won.

It made her lip curl in distaste, made the hackles on her sense of pride rise. She attacked, stretching her muscles after a too long nap, reveling in the feeling of physical combat. She saw someone, a quick flash, too lost in the flurry of battle to be seen clearly. They were good, and they had won her. She was going to have to arm herself before she fought the racer. She had felled another when she saw Brejik go down, and all of his flunkies that remained conscious fled quickly away. And Revan stood twirling Bastila's lightsaber with the tips of her fingers like it was as natural as breathing.

Bastila stopped breathing, stopped talking. She recovered, talking quickly to hide her surprise, her fear. Revan didn't seem convinced, and Revan looked a lot stronger than when Bastila had seen her last. She had more color to her skin, more meat on her bones, more grace in her movements, seemed less hampered by pain. Her stark, icy blue eyes didn't seem convinced by Bastila's act, like her eyes could cut through the Padawan like paper.

But Revan had had a keeper while Bastila was away, and Revan wasn't here to kill her. Revan was here to help her, to bring her back to whoever was holding her leash now. Bastila bade Revan take her to him and seemed almost smug on the silent trip back. But Revan kept giving her odd looks, like her brain, her memory, was a speeder and she kept trying to get it to kick, kept trying the key in the ignition.

She had given up by the time they made it back to the uppercity apartment, but something cold and equally smug had made its way into her blue eyes, like she had come to some grand conclusion. It stole the confidence right out of Bastila's stride, made the spot between her shoulder blades twitchy when Revan looked at her.

**Chapter Eleven**

Carth seemed happy to see Bastila. Bastila did not seem happy to see anyone. She set off in Princess mode, and Carth got annoyed and knocked her down a peg. She glanced briefly at me and switched tactics. Still, she seemed very disappointed that we didn't already have a first class cruiser waiting to take her to a week vacation on Manaan. Which, to me, seemed poor reward for all runaround we went through finding and freeing her. So, I thought of some nice expletives to myself and smiled brightly when she looked at me.

She had resolved to take control, get us out of here. Definitely a real do it yourselfer. I told her briefly of a ship I heard about that I wanted to steal, Davik's nice little smuggling ship. She frowned on my want of stealing. And then Carth gave her our options, and she rethought it. "We should head to the cantina, there are some people I want to talk to about this."

"Agreed," she said. I glanced at the Wookie and the Twi'lek, tossed Mission some fun cash.

"I want you to grab lunch, ask about. Keep your ears open, that sort of thing. We can't go in force everywhere; people would notice. But you guys are local flavor, so scout about for me." Mission looked like she wanted to protest being kidhandled, but she didn't. Maybe I looked like I wasn't in the mood for anymore nonsense after Bastila's tirade.

As soon as Bastila, Carth, and I stepped out of the room, I got a message. Mandalorian Canderous wanted to offer me a way off the rock we were on. I glanced wordlessly at Bastila. She glared but said nothing. We were only half way to the cantina when she started questioning me. How was I able to complete the wondrous feats that she belittled but moments before? I had no answer, but she did. "You are Force Sensitive. You could get training, but I am not sure the Council would accept someone of your age," she said. And I could almost see something behind the words, all the half truths and lies in those knowing eyes of her. I shrugged.

We met up with Canderous in the cantina, and he was in less armor than before. Still armed, but he was in a tight black shirt that clung to the muscles of his defined chest and the cream colored slacks had to be tight enough to be worn comfortably under the armored boots. The air of violence that hung around him, his rough voice, they remained unchanged.

He wasn't amused by the Jedi Princess, but he sounded genuinely interested in me. And again, many squares would equate that immediately to sexual innuendo, but when he looked at me, he wasn't thinking about a bedroom. Oh, nothing quite so tame. He told me where I could get a droid to slice my way into the Sith headquarters, and when he spoke of them, he sounded wistful. He so wanted to raid the base, but he wasn't allowed to. And as quickly as that, I saw him as something dangerous straining at the leash of something weak and fleshy. Something that would go down quickly and bleed a lot. "You make it back from this, and I'll get us off this rock," he said, and he wasn't offering me passage. He was offering to let me hold his leash and keep it until he got bored. I grinned.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I drawled, and Bastila gave me a sharp look. What? Was I not allowed to flirt, was I not allowed to recognize the warrior that lurked in his eyes as much as he recognized mine? And who was she to say? Why did she care? We headed to the droid shop, with her lecture in tow. I gave her a bored look. Carth agreed with her, and I gave him the same bored look. "No Sith, no Mandalorians, what kind of party is that?"

"The kind where I don't have to hurt you," Carth said. I laughed at him.

"Bring it on, punk," I said. Bastila seemed scandalized. She seemed even more shocked as we bantered to the droid shop, bantered from the droid shop to the Sith Base. Bantered through the Sith base. We were headed into a room where the codes had to be, but something was off. I couldn't place what, so I stopped bantering.

"Something dark lies behind this door," Bastila said. I tried, and I could almost feel it. Which, of course, was impossible. The door opened and the dark Jedi governor attacked. He was good, and I let him knock Bastila back before charging ahead. And just when he got his second wind and was about to do that nifty Force push, I'd roll out of the way, let Bastila get knocked aside, and get back to my fight. She interfered more than fought, and my blade glowed under the stress of holding off his lightsaber.

Stupid blades. They were gawky, heavy, ungraceful, easily damaged. He broke one of my swords just as I plunged the other between his ribs. Bastila had finally, finally gotten his shield down enough for me to do so. "Are you okay?" Carth asked. I glanced at him curiously. Was he talking to me? I wasn't the one who had been knocked upside the head at least eight times during the course of the fight. Bastila seemed none the wiser though.

"You were very quick. You managed to avoid all of his Force attacks while I was caught up in so many of them," and she seemed young and self depreciating. What, was she twelve? I looted the body, looted the room, and turned abruptly to leave. "You do that too easily." She said. I gave her a confused look. "Rob dead bodies," she explained.

"We needed the codes, Bastila. No use being squeamish, not when I wasn't squeamish about shoving my sword into his gut," I said. She subsided and Carth, amazingly, seemed to be on my side. He walked a bit closer to me was we exited the place, whirring droid in tow. T3-M4 was actually funny, if I took any time to listen to him. I'd mess with him later.

I was already headed towards the lowercity cantina, filled with purpose and the afterglow of violence. "Be careful around this man, Morgan. I don't trust him, and I think he'd leave you high and dry if you let him," Carth said, pausing at the cantina door. I glanced over at him. Carth didn't trust him, but then Carth didn't trust anyone. Did I trust Canderous? In this, absolutely. The man wouldn't lie to me like this. He'd want me to know he was trying to kill me, if he was trying to kill me. He'd want me prepared. It was flattering in a way. But I nodded to Carth, promised to keep my guard up.

Canderous grinned as I entered, knowing I had the codes, knowing I had plundered the Sith base. "I can get you in. Davik is interested in meeting the dueling champion and master racer. You can probably take one of them with you, as your personal crew, but probably not both," he said, giving me options. Carth, who didn't trust Canderous or myself. Or, Bastila, who kept looking at me like I was somehow about to turn evil and massacre her. Where was a third option when you needed one? I chose Carth, and Bastila moved to argue.

"Bastila, I need someone to pilot the ship I plan on stealing," I said. She shut up. Canderous was looking amused through it all, like he knew the choice I was making.

"Good, follow me," he said, a man of many words. We were to meet Davik in the morning, and Canderous set us up in the guest wing, promising to be back to meet up with us later. The entertainment options consisted of massages or intercourse selections with several slaves, spice or drugs, or my deck of cards in the room. We settled for cards and I had fun pretending not to know different games, and then kicking Carth's lovely butt in them.

He seemed less suspicious of me, less angry at me. And I think he was beginning to think that the questions to which he had few answers were better asked to someone else. The way he had been eying Bastila said he had a few choice words for her. I approved. Something about Bastila's cocky demeanor seemed false, and something unnamed in me wanted to knock her off her pedestal.

I fell asleep, and I should have been thinking of Carth, or Canderous, or even fighting Bendak. But I was thinking of the racing grounds and of Bastila Shan opening her grey eyes on my command. I drifted off, and dreamed of blood.

**Chapter Twelve**

Bastila opened her eyes to look into faded blue eyes, eyes that looked like a clear winter morning when the sky is mostly obscured by flurries of snow. It was almost the eyes of an artic wolf; pale, untamed, calm, nothing that would understand compassion, and the only warmth they understood came in the heated wash of fresh blood. Revan smiled sardonically like she knew what Bastila was thinking. Of course, she did know.

"I have been compared to a wolf before, but never quite so flattering. I understand compassion, Bastila. You are still alive," I said, smiling when she narrowed her eyes.

"That's only because the collar I put on your animalistic hide is still working quite nicely, isn't it? You'd kill me, but you can't think of a reason in the world why you'd want to do such a thing," she said, smug. I smiled again.

"And how long do you think that will hold?"

"It's worked so far!"

"Ah, and of course, that means these bonds will never, ever break. I wouldn't bank on it."

"Yea, well, maybe after we make you jump through our hoops we'll let you die somewhere, and I won't have to worry about you ever again," Bastila snapped.

"How very lightsided of you, indeed, Padawan," I said slowly. Bastila's eyes widened. "No, no, apprentice, do not fear me." I circled her slowly, appraisingly. "You will be a magnificent Sith, Bastila." A high compliment.

"Never!" she roared back at me, fire snapping in her warm grey eyes.

"As in time my bonds will break, as in time, so will yours," I said, and the dream shattered with Carth bent over me. "I swear, man, if I wake up with you hovering over me one more time I'm going to…" I trailed off, not really meaning anything. He seemed amused.

"You should really stop muttering and screaming in your sleep," he said, and now even my suspicious dreams merited concern. I shrugged and we prepared ourselves to meet with Davik. I had done some shopping in the time we spent waiting for the swoop race to begin, and I looked a little sexy and a lot dangerous. Davik liked, and after the main tour, he dismissed us. I wasted no time looting the place and releasing the prisoner, getting the codes, heading to my new ship. Canderous was handy with a blaster, too, and he seemed more willing to wade into the thick of a battle and hit people with that large gun of his. I'd say he was compensating, but the pants were too tight.

We entered the hangar. And as we neared out getaway, naturally, the Sith attacked. Davik and Calo Nord were there, and Davik actually seemed surprised. Of course, he was just as I thought he would be. Weak and fleshy, easily taken down, bled a lot. Nord was better, but he was still a blasters kind of guy. My own gunmen had been keeping him off of me, but I turned then to attack him. Part of the ceiling crashed down on him and the entire building shuddered just a little. Nord was still alive, but he wasn't worth killing right then. Posed no threat. Then, we stole my ship, picked up the rest, scooted off planet in the cover of blaster fire.

A few fighters snapped at our heals, but Princess Bastila ordered me to the turret… and they died quickly. Very quickly. And we left the battle behind. I met the two of them in the cockpit, with Mission and Zaalbar in the hallway crowding in. They were arguing about where to go. Carth seemed unnerved and Bastila seemed relieved to be in space. I'd have taken Carth's side over hers, but she had a plan and he didn't. We needed refueling and redirection. With astonishing quickness, Carth calmed and agreed, setting in the coordinates.

I went off to explore the ship and Bastila went to meditate. Mission locked herself in the set of bunks I quickly labeled 'girls' and I left her to it. Zaalbar was quiet, content to flick through the entertainment choices and wait for Mission to come to herself. "She'll be fine, just give her time," I said, and he nodded gratefully. Canderous found the cargobay and workbench and began repairing something that I think might have been broken in the Sith raid. "Hey," I said. "We're headed to Dantooine. Bastila says there's help there."

He gave me a bland look. I shrugged. "You got something better to do?" I asked. He shook his head. I put a hand out for his rifle and he handed it over. I spent some nice, quiet time working on the rifle, and he occasionally looked over to make sure I wasn't screwing it up.

"You got a good eye for weapons," he said conversationally. I grinned. "When are you going to ditch these idiots and start off on your own?" Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. I mean, I had some sort of misgivings about being 'just a soldier' for the Republic and if I had to cater to that stuck up princess any longer and I was going to put a blaster to my head. But the Republic, was it worth fighting for? The answer arose clean and clear from within me, yes.

"I don't know, honestly. I think the Republic is worth it, but this Jedi thing…" I trailed off. There was something roaring in my head, like someone shouting really loud, too loud to make out the words.

"Jedi are magnificent warriors and horrible pacifists," he said. I thought it was a good summary. I tinkered there for a while longer, then went to check on the pilot. He was calm, but agitation and anger simmered below the surface. He went off in a tirade about how the Sith were animals, how horrible the destruction of Taris was. And it didn't seem like he was talking about Taris at all.

"Taris, or Telos?" I asked. He seemed confused, but it didn't take him long to figure it out, and he seemed repentant when he did.

"It's just… I know what Mission's going through."

"I don't think you do," I said, and he looked taken back, confused, a little outraged. "Taris sucked to aliens, and her brother took her there and abandoned her there, like neither the planet nor she were good enough for him. She hated Taris, so this is a different kind of guilt for her to deal with." He noted that I said a different kind but said nothing. He was learning not to argue with me.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked. I plopped into the copilot's chair and waited for him to speak. "Have you ever…?" he began. Well, the answer was 'probably,' even if my memory was still a bit spotty. I didn't push it. "Have you ever been in love?" I couldn't help it, I smiled.

"Are you coming on to me?" I asked. He glared.

"I was being serious." I thought about it for a while. I most definitely had been in serious lust. And I found love within me, just not the kind he was speaking of. Which seemed kind of sad to me, a nearing thirty-years-old woman and I had never been romantically in love.

"No. No, I don't think so. There was someone a while back that I liked, and we were lovers, but I wasn't in love with him." Truth. I was still puzzled about it, but I figured I just wasn't the trusting or loving kind. Something ugly stretched in my mind, but it was hazy, indefinable. I let it be.

"Love is a really good feeling," he said. _I miss it_. He didn't need to say the words for me to hear them. I left and came back quickly with some Alderian beer that Davik had kept stocked, king of beers. He seemed grateful and we drank in relative silence.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_The Ebon Hawk_

We stood together and another entered our less than peaceful fuzzy world. It wasn't defined because the surroundings weren't important. What was important was her, me, and him, and the force of our personalities. We burned like a candle's flame in the hazy grey world, eye catching and mesmerizing. Bastila, meet Malak; Malak, Bastila. I smiled at them both, that calm, gentle smile of a madman.

"I… I don't understand what's going on here," Bastila said.

"Ignorance? From a Jedi?" I asked, full of mocking and superiority. She stiffened. Ah, the pride on that one would lead her to her doom. To me. I had come to the realization that I was unchanged by what they did and that I was a good person at heart, who loved the Republic. Was I still a gentle soul? And after my long, precipitous fall, how could I be revived? Repent? But even to me, here, now, there was something missing from the whole of my perceptions. I would be cautious yet, until I knew more. Until I was whole.

"You have brought your apprentice here to conspire with him, I get that part," she snapped testily back at me. I baited her only because she rose so beautifully to the bait. Malak looked amused and might have smiled if he had lips.

"Oh no, I fear my lord Revan and I will conspire no more," he said. It was true. To return to my full position, I had to kill him. Hell, I had to kill him simply for what he did. No, I had to kill him and make an example of him. Fear me, subjects. But again that that niggling doubt that I had set myself up… well, I merely smiled at him and we both understood.

"Malak. Do not touch her. I have already begun training her as my own new apprentice," I said. Bastila seemed outraged. Malak glanced at her and I knew he was going to go for her. It had already been in his plans, but they were solider now. Which was perfect, to have her trained in the darkside when I killed Malak. Because, doubts aside, lightside or darkside, Malak would be destroyed. His days were numbered. He started to say something, but I sent him away. I was finished with him for now. I turned to her.

"Let me guess, we begin our lessons, Master Revan?" she asked sarcastically. I gave her blank, faded blue eyes.

"Why are you taking me to be trained in the ways of the Force? That's like giving the wolf a taste of human blood before accidentally letting him loose," I said. She frowned, and something seemed to get stronger about her.

"I want you to be the person you were when you left for the Mandalorian wars," she said, and it was almost a pout.

"You mean when I convinced you not to follow me?" I asked. Her eyes widened in surprise. Yes, Bastila, I made you not follow me so that you could... My own faded eyes widened a touch. "Go away, Child, I must think." And then I was left to the silence of my mind. I woke groggy but refreshed, with less painful dreams, more normal sleep.

Dantooine hadn't been far off and we reached it in a matter of days. I set about making the ship mine: changing the heating controls, setting T3-M4 into cleaning mode, raiding the supplies, rearranging the stores, changing the linen, restocking the fresher with unopened bottles of everything (because Davik, iew), etcetera. I also went through the entertainment choices and deleted too many things for me to want to remember, and downloaded new choices.

No one said anything about it, like that I wouldn't be keeping the ship, or that it was probably the property of the Jedi now. I think no one said anything because that was day one. Day two I got jittery, going from one person to the next, learning names and stories. Favorite television show, lost pet. Then I got into gaming for a bit, on the net with other gamers, and went through two games in the one day. Got tired of it. Finally, by the end of the second day the rest of the crew had a plan. Either they'd put me out with tranquilizers, or they'd keep me busy.

The next two days Bastila tried to get me to meditate, but Carth and Canderous had different plans and I spent the days beating the hell out of first one, then the other. Afterwards I was tired enough to just sit and watch some holovid with a beer and a warm guy next to me (either one). Canderous flirted with me just a little… and only when Carth was around. He loved pissing Carth off. All in all, it was fun. Bastila didn't approve, but then, Bastila didn't like fun. She didn't like drinking, and she didn't like fighting, and she didn't like flirting.

Beyond that I was mostly uneasy around her, uneasy in general. When I fought with the guys, it was like I was stretching muscles long unused, like physical therapy, like I was recovering strength from a horrible, reaching wound that was not just several bumps to the head. I began noticing my body more, and I gained color and weight in the trip; I looked less like a starved, gaunt, grey hospital patient and more like a person accustomed to action. And I was definitely a person accustomed to action.

_Dantooine_

So, the trip wasn't long, but the first day on Dantooine stretched well into next week. First, Bastila runs off to 'speak with the council.' Then she asks me to go speak with the council. And then they decide they need to talk, so why don't I come back after they have done so; they'll send for me. They will summon me. They might be arguing over whether or not I join rank as the least of their number, but at current I was a Republic soldier and their treatment as a subject of a sovereign entity was a bit shabby. I came back out to see Carth there, with his warm eyes all cold with suspicion from nothing I had done.

That annoyed me too and I don't mean his suspicion. I mean the fact that they were giving him a run around and we both knew it, but I had to bear the brunt of it. I stopped before him and he noticed me watching him. He even made the attempt to keep all that he was thinking off his face, failing miserably. I cocked a head. "I'm to meet with them sometime tomorrow when it is most convenient for them to deign to grace me with their presence. Yeah, so, I'm okay showing up hung over. And I got a few drinking games I'd love to try out on you," I said. He tried smiling past his concern.

"I'm all… uh, I'm there," he said, and we both got a laugh out of it. We lounged on the couch in the common room, watching a movie and chugging when a certain word was said (it wasn't 'the' but I tried). He still seemed a little tense that I might be holding a grudge for the doubt of me that was so present on him. Naturally, I hit the issue on the head.

"Look, man, you've got reason to be suspicious. I know. It's okay. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to ease your suspicions, please." Direct, aren't I? He sighed.

"That's just it. You've done it. You've done everything right, nothing wrong, and you're getting blamed for other people's actions. That's not fair," he said. Life's not fair, Carth, you should know that by now.

"Look, I'm not sweating it so it doesn't make any sense for you to. Life's too short." Especially for a career soldier during times of war, like we both were. He quieted, but it was there in his eyes, that flash. How the _hell_ did I miss it? The man had self destruct written all over him. Oh, bloody freaking hell! A little alarm went off in my head that said 'Warning: avoid emotional attachment, destruction is imminent.' I could even feel the wall go up in my heart, that rearing back from him to close myself off from the hurt. Because if someone wanted to die, they'd sooner or later find a way.

So we sat there in silence with him brooding about me and the Jedi council and with me wondering whether or not I wanted to wall him off. Whether it was too late or not. And because it was a companionable and deep moment, Bastila arrived. Force, that woman is depressing. She looked, nay, glared at the beer in my hand. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I was drinking a beer and watching a movie, but you came in and stood in front of the movie," I said, taking a swig. Her eyes narrowed.

"As someone who's being considered for Jedi training, such behavior is deplorable. You should start thinking of your future and what proper deportment _is_ for a Jedi." I shrugged.

"Two things. First, I haven't received said Jedi training yet, so I haven't been taught not to drink as of now. Secondly, if this is my last night of allowed drunkenness, then I should probably start drinking quicker."

"That is just the type of brainless, soldier…" she trailed off, growing a little hesitant. Did she know how much her emotions showed on her face? Like flights of birds, each one a different and unique color, flying past her face until it settled again into the normal patterns that said, almost shouted 'nothing to see here.' What was she thinking? That I _was_ just another brainless soldier and that she probably shouldn't insult me? Somehow, I didn't think that was it. "I will see you in the morning," she said stiffly and wandered off.

I turned to Carth. "Dude, we're just mindless grunts. Let's like, get trashed, vandalize a building, set something on fire, then pass out half naked on the lawn."

"I'm game," he said, grinning.

**Chapter Fourteen**

They had agreed to train me. Whoopee, wasn't I lucky? They told me that, yes, I was lucky to be trained at such an old age. I sensed… hostility and sadness from them. Current events or older ones? Who was the ghost that haunted their eyes? They wanted to set me up in the girls dorm. No thanks was my response. I slept on the Hawk and felt… oddly safe. Something about all that metal, the thrum of ships lights, the knowledge that if things got out of hand then another world was just a few key strokes away.

Carth agreed too and we all stayed onboard, except Bastila. Bastila. We had a bond, they said. It allowed us to see things that the Force conveniently showed us. We shared dreams, which, considering how my dreams were going…. The last dream had been of the deceased Dark Lord of the Sith, standing before a ruin, encouraging a man with bad tattoos on the head to enter with her. Great, I was having nightmares about a damn Sith lord. It was just so… trendy of me. But there was something… incredibly personal about the whole thing, like all the players of this little drama were friends of mine, known to me.

Carth's suspicion deepened, sharpened. Me, a Padawan? A Force Bond with Bastila? And five very uneasy Jedi Masters? Highly unusual. I agreed. I wondered where the hell the bond had come from. And since I dreamed of her before I met her, well, it was rather odd and just a touch random. Or was it? I had some serious questions that had no easy answers, but I was also positive that Bastila had all those answers. Maybe paranoia is catching?

But I was honest with Carth as Bastila snapped that it as none of his damn concern. And I think he noticed. More than once I've seen the two of them quiet upon my arrival, flushed from arguing. I'm not saying my blatant honesty to Carth made him not suspicious of me, but it did lessen it. To think, in thirty or forty years, he may trust me! Joy.

I think I spent most of my time spent at the Jedi academy with Canderous. I was already having serious philosophical issues with the cult; Carth suspected me, and Bastila scolded any nefarious thinking. But Canderous, he got me. We'd both been there, in battle and war and death and ugliness; and, while some of these philosophies held true in classrooms, he and I both had seen them fail in practical application.

They had me do a few run around chores during my apprenticeship there: talk a Cathar off a rather rickety ledge, help solve a murder, help two kids play Romiet and Julio, and, my favorite, kill a large number of mercenary Mandalorians. I made a lightsaber, recited a code that seemed like I knew it by heart, and was advised, next, to go visit the ruins that Darth Revan had. So many things seemed… familiar. This was explained as the bond with Bastila, I was drawing on it heavily to learn things so quickly. Still, they seemed… alarmed at how quickly I caught on.

The Wookie, Mandalorian, and Twi'lek wanted to come with me to check out the tomb. I vetoed them: my mess, my job. Carth was too suspicious and curious to let me go it alone and Bastila was charged with the same task. It was her task, really, I was to help and learn. Whatever. When I first saw the ruins over the edge of the hill, I knew them, remembered them. They looked only slightly different from the dream, different lighting, more age and weather to the stones. I stood on the pathway while Carth and Bastila walked bravely down it and felt… something.

I couldn't put a name to the vertigo I felt staring at a spot I had seen through another's eyes. I could hear the other man continuing on about the place, letting his senses go, being seduced by those dangerous whispers, giving in. "Do you think they will find us here, stop us?" he asked, speaking of the council.

"Malak, I own this world and these people already." That voice, those eyes. Darth Revan. My heart sped.

"If we go in, we will never be welcomed back," he said. A bitter laugh, Revan.

"Malak, we were exiled the second we left this world to protect the Republic." The world spun around me and I could see his face, young and whole, wide brown eyes. And Darth Revan, where was Revan? Where was Revan?

"Morgan, are you coming?" Bastila asked, sounding concerned. I blinked, scurried over, heart still racing. Where the hell had Revan been? It was there, in the back of my head, on the tip of my tongue, that I couldn't see Revan because I was seeing through her vibrant yellow eyes.

We traded words with the droid on guard, but my heart wasn't into it. Something about a Star Forge, but that brought all sorts of other things rushing to the forefront of my mind. We hypothesized on what it was, even as I remembered, no, knew what the inside looked like. These weren't my memories, they were Revan's. I wondered dimly if the deceased Revan was reaching Bastila and I somehow, helping.

We killed the droids, answered the questions, and entered the final room. We found a map with little points on it. And to Bastila, it seemed like a guide, like a 'connect the dots' puzzle that only required a little work. We headed back. Neither of my companions, however, could allow the walk to be in silence.

Bastila questioned me about my background. Everything she already knew. It got old, quick. She 'just wanted to see how I answered, and I answered truthfully so that was good.' What is this, a pop quiz on honesty? A test of how much of an asshole I was? I had never given her any reason to doubt my honesty and I freely admitted to being an asshole.

But moments after Carth got into a fit about how very unusual this all was, and how Bastila was tight lipped and not telling him anything, how I was just as bad and closed lipped, how very irritating it was for him. It angered me, gasp, but I accepted with it with composure. I even teased him a little. But we were all brooding as we spoke with the council, were sent off on our mission. Lovely. They gave me, sorry, Bastila the Cathar for help on the trip and we were off on our way.

**Chapter Fifteen**

_The Ebon Hawk_

I glanced around the grey world and it had shape. It was Dantooine, the ruins, derived of color. Bastila seemed confused. "We visited here already."

"You are welcome, child," I said. She seemed even more confused. "For the dream of where this was. Did you really think it _was_ the Force that gave you that little boon?" I asked. I remembered now, all that I was, all that I am. And I held the visions at bay, because it was all set into motion anyways.

"What do you want, Revan?" she asked, her voice scathing. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be _me_ again, truly me. It was okay for everyone to hate me for the atrocities I committed, but if anyone was going to be on my side, I wanted it to be me. I wanted to know why I went off half cocked to the darker side of the Force, killed so many. I didn't want this kind of living death.

"I am merely being helpful, child, there is no reason to get upset. There is no emotion, Bastila," I said. She glared.

"I don't trust this change of heart, Darth Revan."

"You shouldn't. But I will lead you to Darth Malak because I want him dead, and I will lead you to me. You will fall." I had seen her fall, such a light and touchy thing, so fragile and easily shattered. But Malak. I did not want Malak dead, because I had led him to this. My dearest friend, and I had betrayed him, led him there, sold him. And now, I was going to kill him. It was better that I not know, not now. And the dream faded off. I woke and started the day.

Since I was still brooding over the pop quiz and questions of character, and so was Carth, I spent my time with Canderous. I was less jittery, more myself, but I wanted to keep the body and mind active. Bastila joined me every so often, but that mostly ended with advice to go meditate. I eventually got bored enough to start pouncing on unsuspecting victims.

Zaalbar wouldn't talk about his past, that was fine, but I engaged him in a game of 'have you ever.' It turned out to be a rather short game, because my memory still was a little spotty and I had headaches, and because Zaalbar, beyond whatever obvious trauma, led a mostly boring life. I stalked Mission next, wandering her through the ship, until she finally got annoyed and turned on me. We talked about homes and lives well lived; and she seemed better for the talk, more on her way to accepting that Taris was gone.

I coaxed Bastila into talking about life before the Jedi and of her loving parents. She eventually got annoyed with the line of questioning and the prospect of love and shut up. Well, I suppose that got her back for her unfounded questioning of my honesty. Juhani and I talked a little and she was less hesitant, more open to the questioning. She seemed terribly embarrassed about her threatening demeanor in the grove. I told her the same thing I had told Carth. If I wasn't worried about it, neither should she be.

Speaking of Carth, I caught him in a very compromising situation. See, Wookies don't metabolize most liquors the way humans do and he had kept pace, drinking an awful lot. So, I got to put him to bed, stripping him down to his undershirt and shorts while he giggled. "You know, I wasn't kidding. You are beautiful."

"Why, Mr. Onasi, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hitting on me," I responded.

"Call me Captain Onasi," he said, waggling his eyebrows. I laughed. "You know, gorgeous, I'm real sorry. I'm sorry I've been hard on you and I'm sorry I'm not able to be who you need," he said. I smiled gently.

"That's okay, Captain Onasi. We'll work on it." And I tucked him and headed out of the boys dorm. Canderous caught me at the door, smirk firmly in place.

"You have a sucky taste in men," he said, quietly. I grunted.

"Tell me about it. I have to like the guy who's caught in a day that happened years ago with a self destruct button that's already been pushed, who can't tell me he loves me yet and won't be the one to initiate any contact. Yeah, I must be freaking insane."

He cocked his head to the side, considering. "I think you like him because of that, not in spite of it. He feels like he breathes, it's natural for him. And you got a look on your impassive face, girl, that says you've got real issues just allowing even the simple emotions." It was sentimental and deep, but Canderous was more than muscle. Not much more, but he was. We had an unspoken understanding; warriors don't cry but humans do. And we were every bit as much as one as we were the other. I shrugged at him.

"Bastila has difficulty with her emotions and looks at me with jealousy sometimes, how I can be expressionless in the most stressing of situations, how I can hide behind a politely blank mask. But the Jedi value compassion and that's an arm of caring. It's not normal or natural for someone to be so… lost when it comes to such things." I sighed and Canderous shrugged.

"I got no answers for you there, but I'm with you." We left it at that, and both went off to think thoughts too deep for the average soldier. I dreamed that night, the fighting, Bastila, with her staring down at me with a weird expression on her face, the smell of burnt flesh. Darth Revan's final moments?

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Kashyyyk_

The place was dank and gloomy, and it fit my mood like a glove. Unfortunately, Zaalbar got twitchy, and Mission got twitchy with him. And Canderous, well, he wanted some more action. So, we traveled in a group and I couldn't convince a damn one of them to watch the ship except Juhani and T3-M4. Thankfully, the girl thought I could walk on water. And the droid was programmable. Made things easier. But then, I could shoot the half of them and make things a lot easier. Ah, what a girl wouldn't give for a high powered rifle.

Zaalbar let us in on the disconcerting tidbit that he may not be welcome. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. I mean, he wasn't a non-slave errant wandering about with a troubled past, never. We argued with a few people, bartered with a few others, and I got to see a man go stark pale when Zaalbar growled at him. Sometimes a three hundred and fifty pound alien made of fur, claws, and teeth is a good thing to have.

We made it to the village. Some prick that turned out to be Zaalbar's brother held him hostage until I killed a maddened Wook. Mission was distraught and Canderous thought we should kill them all, now. But I didn't want to take any chances that we'd have to kill the whole town and then no one would work the platform for us, or have some lurking enemies trying to trap us in the Shadowlands, where another piece to the map had to be. Bastila thought we should try to seek some peaceful solution.

But the situation was sticky, and I could see that. There was a civil war brewing, and no peaceful solution is possible, it's only possible to choose sides. But the Wookie brother wasn't going to kill Zaalbar, and I gave Zaalbar some parting advice to wait for us, peacefully. We'd figure something out. He wanted to trust me, badly, and wasn't sure he should at the same time.

We embarked down into the Shadowlands. And, almost upon getting there was Calo Nord. Surprise, surprise. He looked at me like he knew me, knew something I didn't. And he came with a group. But, I had a group too. It was a fun fight, and Calo was definitely skilled. Plus, he had some nice armor and given a few minor adjustments could be made to fit any number of crewmembers. Bastila said nothing when I looted the bodies this time, searching for where his orders to kill me came from. She said nothing, which was good because Canderous looted too and I doubt he'd want to discuss it with her.

We went a small ways in and caught a very familiar sound. The swish and thrum of a lightsaber, held by an old, dark man with hair pattering around his head like snow. And I couldn't help but think of him as grey. He was wearing brown, wielding blue, but it was all faded. Old robes, dingy crystal, dirty. "Follow," he said when he was finished with the beasts, and he scurried off. We followed. The conversation with him was a little odd. I felt I must have met him, somewhere, but I knew I hadn't. There was guilt to him, a little rage, a little peace, and a lot of the wisdom of a life lived hard. I almost immediately liked him.

Then he spoke. Jolee Bindo played word games, logic games, and sent me off on a task. He'd set me up to say something then critique me for saying it. Him, over Bastila, I think I could look to for debate. I didn't like her method and she looked at me like I was a puppy that peed on the carpet if I truly got into any debate. So much for us being scholars.

We took our time. Found a malfunctioning droid with some interesting information that someone on the dock might like. I made Mission run it back up to Matton, then told her to fill Juhani in. So, I was able to get rid of her and have her feel useful, which was a plus. After the fight with Calo I got a little antsy about whether or not a fourteen year old should be running through the forest, so sue me. Found a Wookie corpse, too, and I'd deal with that later. Jolee's quest was easily taken care of by talking to a few people and not getting easily offended. "What the hell are Tach glands used for?" I asked, truly confused. Obviously, I'd never run spice. Canderous explained briefly. Suggested maybe we take one. I remembered Carth drunk and consented. We saw the purple shielding and I paused before it. Overgrown, ancient, thrumming. I stared for just a moment before turning on a heel and heading back towards the old man.

He seemed please that I hadn't slaughtered some low quality mercs and a passive aggressive poacher. Cannon fodder. It seemed a little tacky for me. He gave me that look that said he knew me better than I did, but he gave Bastila the same look so it was okay. Then he said he was coming with us. So, not only could I shoot half the crew, I added a new one. Tiresome. We talked on the way there, and he was abrasive, and he was honest, and he was obscure. He was much more fun to argue with than Bastila was. He and Canderous got into it a little, philosophy and such, and that was just plain amusing to listen to.

He got us past the glowing gate and I passed a hand across its surface as we entered. Felt the energy, the age, the darkness. Taint. And, oddly, it felt familiar, welcome, usable, friendly. I had a very slight smile on my lips as we walked. Naturally, because we entered a place, there was trouble. Mandalorians were fighting an unarmed Wookie. We jumped them. Grrrwahrr, the Wookie, explained what was going on. Canderous in particular found that this very offensive, cowardly. I agreed. So we tripped up the rest of them and killed them, slaughtered. Jolee didn't give any counter advice to this, and Bastila didn't try.

I wasn't sure I'd want them for my moral code anyways. Canderous was a bit lax and Bastila was pure, impractical. Jolee lost me by accepting that there is grey, and I hated getting a maybe answer to a life or death question. So, I went with Carth. Honest, upstanding, moral, but defensive of the Republic to almost a cruel edge. Sounded good to me. We'd helped Grrwahrr and he was thankful.

The next Wookie we found was not grateful. Or happy to see us. We were attacked, but the Wookie was obviously old and underfed, if you knew what you were looking for. He recovered himself, seemed to recognize Jolee. They spoke for a bit. "Do you happen to know why Chuundar wants you dead enough to kidnap my friend Zaalbar?" I asked. He explained and it was a nasty tale, and I understood Zaalbar better. I wish the damn Wookie would have told me, though. All of us, we all were carrying around our pains; we'd have understood.

I promised my aid. I had found someone to throw my support with in Kashyyyk's civil war. Getting what he needed was silly easy and it made me mad. A slaver was in charge because no one would listen to a "mad old Wook" and help him out. I commented on such but I was told that this was no small thing, and Force powers really are needed to kill the beast, etc. I couldn't imagine being sold into slavery… or maybe I could imagine it all too well and that was my problem.

I helped Freyyr as much I could, helped him defeat his own son, helped him reunite with his other son. Watched them dissolve shame and pain, give promises, honor vows. I left Canderous and Carth with Zaalbar, gave them a mission revolving around what I had found on a dead Wookie. I wanted Zaalbar to have as much time as he could with his family and his people before I dragged him willingly off. So, Bastila, Jolee and I headed back down to the Star Map.

It was tied to an old computer that asked very relevant and recent questions. It had a memory wipe at around the time Revan had hit town. Gee, put two and two together. Wow, you mean we really are on the right track. But… it recognized me. It recognized me! I had been here before? I was programmed in? The questions began and my head was swimming. And I could see all the possible answers, all the answers it was looking for. So, I could answer honestly and fail or I could answer in a most heinous manner. I answered the questions in ways that made Jolee and Bastila gasp.

I explained to them, and I wasn't sure why I had to explain it. "Look, this whole place is tainted. This is an artifact of dark power. We need that map. Get over it," I snapped. Was I impatient, angry? No, I was distracted. It recognized me. We took the map and headed to the village. We collected our people; Mission had found them and there had been a trial, an exoneration, a celebratory feast.

We left and it was late by standards. I was tired, but my mind was reeling. It recognized me; something programmed by Darth Revan recognized me. I drifted off quicker than I expected to.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_The Ebon Hawk_

It was Dantooine again, the grey plains with old stones. Power and peace. Jolee was there, Bastila. I had no fear in me, not anymore. "Jolee, I remember of you. We have never met," I said. In the dreamscape, I was hooded in my robes and lovely armor but unmasked. Bastila seemed smug.

"Still on the leash, Revan?" she asked. I spared her a glance.

"Barely. You're in trouble, chickie. A woman with a spotty memory is recognized by a machine programmed by a 'deceased' woman who is in her dreams as first person." Quick, plain. Bastila blanched.

"I thought I recognized you," Jolee muttered. I nodded. "What can we do?" he asked. Funny, that he asked that of _me_. I mean, wasn't I the one they were trying to keep at bay?

"I can… suppress this, but you will need to be quiet about it," I said. Bastila seemed surprised but Jolee wasn't.

"I… I don't understand," she said. Jolee gave her something easy to believe, but I doubt he was fooled by it.

"The person she is now is affecting this version."

"But why would she not want to remember, if she believes she would still be good?" Bastila asked. Because prophecy sucks, and I didn't have the details of this voyage yet. I didn't want them. I didn't want to look in Malak's brown eyes when I slaughter him. I didn't want to mow down people I knew, I converted, and I broke. I was… happy as I was. And I had a fear that, brought to myself, all those connections in the Force would bind me back. Back to _him_, Dy'ean, dark one. I needed several things to be sure first, before I could risk it. And one of those was Bastila to be far from harm. Another, more important, fall colored russet eyes. I needed a reason to live because I had an idea that I wasn't done just yet even after I kill the whisperer.

I gave her something easy to believe. "I could be very affected by 'who I am now,'" I began, and I couldn't help but sound bitter when I said that. Who I am now, not who I once was, not General Revan who loved the Republic so much. Dead, and I had killed her. "And I would not want to risk that person evaporating." Sadly, I was jealous. Of myself. Who I am now had a chance to live, to love. None of my guilt, less of my pain. She was able to have fun, enjoy each moment because the person inside her was desperate. She spoke of Carth as having an already pressed self destruct switch. Irony. Poetic, really. I pushed mine before him.

I said none of this. I sent them away. I wouldn't talk to them for a while, needed them to believe my reasoning.

I woke refreshed and not groggy in the least. This trip was shorter, which was good because after stretching myself on those beasts and Mandalorians and Calo Nords, I wanted more physical battles. And when I was drenched in sweat from beating Canderous around, beating Bastila around, beating Juhani around, beating Carth around, I went to Jolee. I was glad to have him around, because debating with him was fun. He was ornery and he had no qualms about snapping at someone, calling them impatient, young, irreverent. At first, I thought he was a bit harsh on me, until I saw him with Bastila. He tore her up and down and it was incredibly amusing to watch, especially when I saw the argument she didn't understand.

And Carth. I caught him in the cockpit the day before we were to arrive at our next spot. It was late, all the other children had gone to bed. "She was beautiful," he started softly, and he didn't have to say anything beyond that. I knew. His wife, who died in the attack on Telos, whom he held while she died. Never spoken aloud, but it had been in the way he held himself.

"How long were you two married?" I asked. He didn't even seem surprised I had figured it out. He had long since stopped doubting my powers of perception. He grinned in a way that was patented by lovesick fools around the galaxy, like a coalition that would sue if it were used by anyone else.

"Since we graduated High School," he said, with a little bit of warm sadness, and a little bit of pride. He'd been insatiable and he'd wanted her from the beginning. But with the warm sadness in his voice there was a tinge of acceptance. "I'm not sure I can move on. If I can ever love again. Do you think I'm ruined?"

Tricky question. Required a lot of deep thought but there was something desperate in me. I rubbed my hand along his jaw, cupped his face, made his eyes like some leaf vibrant of color in full autumn meet my jaded, chipped blue ones. "You're as ruined as you let yourself be." I leaned in and our faces were close, I could feel his breath on my lips. "But I think you'll get to a point where you'll want to not be ruined," I whispered, then I kissed him, softly, lightly. He responded, softly, lightly. I wanted to deepen it; I wanted to let my desperation for life, for warmth, for _his_ warmth bleed out on him. But he was hurting and fragile and he needed tenderness. And there was something glorious in the feel of him.

I pulled back and he seemed thoughtful. "Thanks," he said quietly, and we sat in companionable silence for a while longer. He spoke some, talked of them. He'd had a son, too, missing but much more likely dead. But I was right, he had held her, Force, and watched the light leak out of her eyes. That night I dreamed and it was odd, odd dream. I didn't question it, I accepted it as truth, knew its source.

It was raining, only lightly, like warm, soft tears that helped carry off the smoke, put out the fires. Third person, wide view, narrowed down. The woman was gorgeous, model slim, smaller hips than me, larger bust. Her hair was the blackness of a night sky far from civilization, clear. It was covered in soot. She opened her eyes and they were a grayish green, like precious jade stone carved into the shape of eyes.

She was dying; she knew it. She wanted, one last time, to see him. He arrived in time, just in time. She was happy. She cupped his jaw much like I had just did and her eyes glistened a little. "I was sorry I was late," he said, his eyes full of so much unshed water, his voice full of the very same anguish. Late? He was in time; he could comfort her while she died.

He pulled her into his lap, cradled her. It hurt, but once she was there… bliss. To be in his warm arms again when she was so cold. Pure bliss. The first of his tears slid down her face, cleaning tracks in the dirt and blood, warm, comforting. She closed her eyes, smiled. "Emma!" Her eyes blinked open. "Honey, please."

She smiled, at peace despite the grateful numbing cold and horrifying pain. "Hurts so much," she began. He started apologizing. She shushed him, like she had done a thousand times before. He smiled through the tears, the pain. "Please, please let me go. It hurts so much. Let me rest, hold me until I do." Force, what could he say to that? He was crying when he said it.

"Forever, babe, and however you want." She had come to him crying one night, caught her old boyfriend cheating, the one she had had since middle school but wouldn't give in to. He went to someone who would and she went to him. Just wanted him to hold her. He'd said that to her then and it made her smile, made her feel safe. Like most high schoolers, he had wanted sex, but he wanted it from her, when she felt ready. He was patient; he was understanding; he agreed, until she had pounced on him and only after told him she had been ready since that first night. Forever and however. "I love you, Emma. I've always loved you. I will always love you."

She smiled, lightly. "I know." Her voice was weaker now. There were hundreds of things she could tell him now, thousands. But none of them seemed important, because she trusted him, trusted that he knew. There was one thing she wanted to say, above all right now, and he knew it. "I love how you hold me." The medic came about a minute later, was late. He let the grieving soldier hold his wife, the body, and let out a small prayer, walked off into the soft rain.

**Chapter Eighteen**

_Tatooine_

My to do list ran as follows: stock up on liquor, hit a cantina, beat the hell out of large amounts of people, and that insignificant task asked of me by the Jedi. We were first beset by someone wanting money. He was persuaded to leave. A busty Twi'lek who wanted to tell Mission something was next. She could not be persuade to leave, and imparted her message of Mission's brother being here. After that, there was a man who had put a shipment of gizka on my ship and would not remove them. All this, before I had even set foot in the town proper.

It got more annoying. A woman crying, pleading I take a collector's item from her. I gave her a little extra to help her get off this sandy, annoying rock. Another man, almost immediately after decided to tell me that me and my gender were horrible, vain, and selfish. He mentioned a name that Bastila said sounded familiar. I tried to get passage into the dunes to conduct my search.

There was a man yelling at a woman, then at me. And then I had to deal with the annoying woman to get passage out to the dunes. The man had mentioned something interesting, however. A primo droid in a junkshop. I was intrigued and my Jedi companions all thought it was a smashing idea to try to end things peaceably. The annoying woman also told us that Mission's brother was at the Sand People camp that I just _had_ to visit. Convenient, that. I let Canderous wander around town, told Mission I'd bring her brother back, told Juhani to scout about the town, and told Jolee to stock the ship. Zaalbar wouldn't be shook and neither, apparently, would Carth. Geeze, kiss a man once and he turns into protective ape man. I was not completely displeased.

We rounded a bend, and because we had entered a new area, we were jumped by three assassin dark Jedi. I got that same predatory feel around them that I had around the Sith governor, around that unnamed dark Jedi way back on the Endar Spire. And, this time, I didn't have to wait for Bastila to be knocked aside. There was enough to go around. I admit; I was selfish, I swatted down two. Zaalbar got the idea, however, and he hung back, let me at it. He didn't even have any concern over my apparent love of killing and fighting.

We found Bastila's mother in the cantina, and she bid us get Bastila's dad's holocron, dismissed us. She was regal and arrogant, self righteous. She also reminded me a lot of Bastila and a little of myself. I had the whole arrogant thing going for me. We hit the droid shop next and the proprietor was eager to be rid of him.

HK-47 stood passive as I looked him. I looked at him and felt happiness, companionship. Zaalbar, Bastila, and Carth seemed to roll their eyes in unison. Uh-oh, Morg's in Zen mode with another droid. I liked him much better than T3. He was witty, sarcastic, arrogant, self interested… violent. I dusted him, cleaned things. The shopkeeper let me use his bench, reminded me frequently that all sales were final. Which was fine with me, the craftsmanship on the droid was superior. There were a lot of things that could use repairing, cleaning, upgrading. I let it be, however, for now. He doubted my prowess in the technical arts; there was only so much a meatbag like myself could do. But he was moving easier, operating with less noise when we left and there seemed less doubt in him.

So, he followed, at more of a stalk than a walk, a crouched, predatory movement. We hit up the Jawa on the way out, because if you need to know where something is in a foreign place, you ask the locals. Why, yes he knew what we were talking about. Yes, he had a map. Oh, he had misplaced a few people, could I find them? Where were they, why, the sand people enclave. Gee, I was headed that way anyways. Again, I was thankful for the convenience.

We entered a new place. I glanced around for the thug that was surely to jump us. There was merely a woman, who hit us up before we even spoke. Assumed bad things of us. This was really getting to be a trend on the planet. We left her with her ominous message, and to spite her I helped her husband free himself of her trap. And, I even got paid for it. We continued onward, at a relatively slow pace. The Wookie, covered in thick fur and used to damp forests, seemed a little heat stricken. He emptied his cantina quickly and I was thankful I packed a few extra bottles, handed those over. He noted the concern and instead of arguing, like Carth would have done, merely accepted.

We intercepted some miners who looked scared and then were ambushed rather quickly by Sand People. And, nomadic people that were less of a challenge than dark Jedi, but still fun, swarmed us and there was more than enough for everyone. I robbed a few disguises and almost was sorry I had, because Sand People wear such concealing clothing for a reason; they're hideous. We headed onward, fought our way into their territory, and disguised ourselves for a rather tame walk to the enclave. Naturally, not being hideous, we were spotted.

I demanded an audience with their chief. Take me to your leader. The droid translated for me, and he didn't seem as pleased as Bastila had with regards to peaceful resolution. I had a moment to worry that he'd quote me wrong just to start some action. I also had another moment to hope he would, when we were sent off on a quest by the chieftain. He also wasn't going for a 'completely cease all combat' approach that Bastila tried. I agreed with him; he had a right to protect his land and his people.

We got what he needed back at the Czerka Corp. headquarters, right next to the woman who wanted them dead, from her disgruntled employee. We brought the moisture vaporizers back, both HK-47 and I disappointed at the lack of bloodshed. We were also allowed the prisoners we needed, the convenient ones. We got the map and well wishes from one, and hit up for money by the other.

We all trooped back together, and I found Mission, told her news of her brother. She snapped at him a lot, got a lot of pent up anger and aggression out on him. It was good for her, because he had left her on Taris to die. He hit me up for a Tach gland that I so handily had. I told him I'd think about heading back to get him one. Once we left, I told Mission where it was stored and let her decide as she would. She had given up on him, but she still gave him the gland because she could do no other. I pawned Zaalbar off on her with the excuse that she might need someone right now, Big Z, and you're her closet friend.

Canderous, however, had caught up to us and wanted to go along. Krayt dragon? Already fought some assassins? He wanted in. A hunter there helped us kill the dragon, shared the bounty. We waded in, found the next map we needed, and Bastila found her father's corpse. She stood beside it for a moment, borrowed Canderous' rifle and vaporized the body. She left with the holocron, a watch, and a scrap of fabric from his shirt. We walked back together, and I made the boys and the bot walk ahead, hung back.

We talked about selfishness and loss, morality and pain. She could have gone her whole life without seeing them again, but she couldn't bear to have them die. I didn't understand it, but apparently I was persuasive enough, compassionate enough to see her to the cantina and back out the other end. And afterwards, she seemed more peaceful and just a little surprised that even a Jedi who shuns the contact of others was loved.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_The Ebon Hawk_

Transit was always rough for me. I poked at too many open wounds, prodded too many bruised egos, and battered too much truth out of my fellow man. But they seemed… grateful for the concern so I didn't worry it. I cleaned and repaired up the droid, heard his tales of his previous owners. His first owner, his maker, those were still unknown. But for an assassin droid, he was well built. I still marveled over his design, tried out a few upgrades. He was thankful.

Canderous and the droid talked a lot and traded sparing blaster fire. When I listened to Canderous' war stories, HK-47 was there. If there was anyone in the crew that truly understood the life and times and philosophy of an assassin droid, it was a warrior people who felt no recrimination towards those who had slaughtered their people, only respect.

I got Bastila to speak of her parents, of her hopes for the future with regards to her mother. Finally, I meditated with her and brought her to a place that was faded in color, calm, peaceful. It had a stream, and a rock jutting out. She asked if I thought her father had joined the Force. I told her that there was no way her father had not; the body had died but that energy that animated the body and the personality behind his grey eyes was not gone. Just as matter cannot be destroyed or created, neither could her father. She seemed more at peace after this, and stood by that stream for a while, speaking softly to someone else.

Jolee and I traded words. We sparred a little, but he avidly admitted he couldn't hold a candle to me. That I was not a fire in some fireplace, contained, but a raging brushfire, wild, powerful, destructive, a force of nature. I told him to remember that the next time he tried to describe himself as a tree. He glared, amused.

Juhani told me of Taris, her home away from home. There was anger there, towards me, towards Bastila, for being the root of the destruction. And I knew why the council had sent her along. We talked for a while and I made her deal with the anger. Her shame and guilt. When she found more of a semblance of peace, I told her to find Mission and talk to her.

I found the two of them giggling one night, dug deep into a makeup kit I had stolen from a brat on Taris. She asked me later if it was wrong of her, un-Jedi-like to bond with Mission, become friends and a type of family, express their anger and sorrow together. I told her someone needed to do it, and I most certainly wasn't up to the job. Besides, she had looked good in that makeup. She blushed and accepted it.

Carth spoke more of his wife and his son. Showed me pictures of a raven haired woman with jade eyes and a boy that looked too much like his father. He seemed awkward at first, speaking of his wife to me. I asked him why. He shut up. He couldn't admit it yet, and we both knew it. He knew it amused me, that I held no hard feelings, that I knew this heading in. He thanked me for all that unspoken grace. Force, the boy was going to wake up one day madly in love with me and not realize that I brought him there through a thousand compassionate nothings.

I caught him one night, in the pilot's chair, humming softly. I sat next to him and he made no motion, didn't stop humming. "I dreamed; this one is going to be a bad one," I said, some unnamed emotion rising in me. And it wasn't dread. It was similar to the droid and the star maps, that beautiful feeling of familiarity, usefulness, friendship despite the shivery dark fingers attached. "Other things wait here, horrible things."

He stopped humming, turned to me. "It _is _Korriban that we're headed to," he said, unperturbed. The absolute… peace of mind was new to him. I cocked a head.

"You seem different." He did. His stubble was even, his eyes were less shifty, and his stance was more relaxed.

"I've decided something," he said. I stayed quiet. "I don't want to be ruined. I've spent so much time and energy hating, wishing for revenge, plotting my own death. A want a life, I want a reason to live." He turned towards the viewport and stared out into infinity. _I needed a reason to live_. I let the wave of vertigo pass, smiled at him.

"Well, Captain Onasi, you let me know if there is any way I can help you with that, hm?" He smiled at me, brilliant, fragile, priceless. He sobered up, those fall colored eyes of his heating with conviction.

"I never understood the darkside. People are evil, normal, average, everyday people commit the worst of atrocities imaginable with no good reason at all. I thought the darkside was like that; a person in power with too much temptation and too little values. It's different, it's like the darkside is a thinking, malevolent beast. You, Bastila, this whole mission is so much bigger than I am."

I was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Carth, we're all dependant on you as the pilot. We're strong; I'll give you that, Bastila, Juhani, Jolee. But without someone else to pilot the ship, we'd be stuck. As big as we seem, we are in your power for the vast majority of our time out here. We're not as big as you think." He gave me one of those long, deep looks that would have been sexy if we hadn't been talking about what we were talking about.

"I want to help you, I want to protect you. I want you to be my reason beyond revenge." I was struck dumb for a moment. Protect me? This was a new concept, a new world. Carth, occupation: making sure she makes it back from the next necessary battle. Sleeps okay, feels safe and warm. Force, help me. "I know, I'm not as strong, I can't do the things you do. But I want to do this, I need to."

I walked to him, snuggled into the seat with him, laid my head on his shoulder, let him hold me. "You'll do famously, love," I muttered, and we sat in silence, staring out into oblivion. The moment was shattered by a sleep washed Bastila, dragged from her bed, no doubt, by the pounding of my heart and the utter peace that filled in. He loved me; he needed me; and that was more than enough of a reason to live, protected me in a way that went beyond strength.

"Tomorrow, Morgan," she said, and wandered back into the dark ship. I looked at him and rolled my eyes. He grinned and I laid my head back on his shoulder, washed back into that peaceful place.

**Chapter Twenty**

_Korriban_

Bastila tried talking to me, seemed concerned, worried. I ignored her. Last night had been nice, but this was Korriban. The air was full of danger and dark whispers, unease and a grinning kind of mean. Some Republic soldier caught us moments off of the ship and told Carth some hard truths. His son lived, and was here at the Academy. He looked stricken, pale. "Your son's alive! Everything else we can deal with as we go." It didn't lessen his worry but it hardened his resolve. I almost pitied his son, because when Carth Onasi set him mind to something, he could be very persuasive.

And, of course, with his son as a maybe inhabitant of Korriban, I couldn't make him stay on the ship. But I wanted to, oh, I wanted to. Just the hint of that dry, dusty air with its musk desert flowers and I wanted to be alone. There was a lot of danger here, and not all of it to the physical self. I liked my crew, I didn't want them here.

I allowed them around the city… or, I allowed some of them into the city. The Jedi had to stay behind, even the low profile ones, because a flashy blade would attract attention. That was okay with me, because I already knew I needed into that academy, and starting with bloodshed, while fun, wasn't always the best route. Needed someone alive to ask questions to.

So, Canderous, HK-47, and Zaalbar. Mission protested. "Stop treating me like I'm a little kid." Now, where have I heard that before? From her. I wouldn't even let the big bad Jedi out roaming. Zaalbar was about to step in and help me out, but I had it covered.

"If this were any other world, Mission, I'd let you have at it. But it's not. It's a Sith run Sith outfitting post and pissing off people here isn't like pissing off a few random thugs on a backwater world. These people either have superior numbers, Jedi powers, or both." I didn't wait to see if she swallowed that. I turned to HK-47. "Don't let anyone steal my ship."

I was grabbing my gear when Bastila pounced. She started flatteringly. Told me how she couldn't control her passions, that she wasn't equipped to guide me on the path of light when I seemed better attuned to it. She said I made it seem easy. I hedged, said I had difficulty too sometimes. I didn't tell her I kept looking at myself oddly when I did or thought something patently odd, other, dark. Like now, like Korriban, it beckoned and something in me answered. _Home_, it said. A shudder ran through me. But I told her that together we were more than the sum of our separate parts, could help each other.

Then, she began. "Your relationship with Carth, however. At first I thought you reached out to him because he was hurting. You did so with everyone else: Juhani, Mission, Zaalbar," she paused, puckering her lip in disdain. "Canderous. But with him, it's different. You want something, you want more. That is not a Jedi's way, Morgan," she said. It was odd, hearing her say my name. For the first time it was said easily, offhanded, and not like she had wanted to call me something else. Maybe she wanted to call me Padawan Greye all this time.

I wasn't sure I had an answer for her. I had spent a few scant months as a Jedi. I had wanted Carth since Taris, wanted someone like him even longer, I'm sure. I needed him, a truth that came from somewhere deep in my conscious. And that, likely, was the danger. "Bastila, there is something dark lurking here," I tapped a finger against my forehead, wasn't speaking of Korriban. "Not evil, not bad, but dark. Ugly. Pain. He can ease that, remove it. He…" I trailed off, shaking my head. There was more to it, so much more that I couldn't articulate at the moment, didn't understand. But she accepted, her eyes just a little shrewd.

I wasn't in a talkative mood when I met up with Carth to head out. Neither was he, brooding about things to come. It was almost like there were whispers in the air, barely heard, urgent. The dock manager was persuaded to accept a fee of zero credits, told me how ecstatic he was to see the Ebon Hawk around. Both he and his buddy seemed to know the Hawk. I was beginning to think the ship was higher profile than the damn lightsaber. We trooped on, in no mood for nonsense. We entered Dreshdae, and at the first bend in the corridor, even before the welcome desk, was a Sith flunky and his three victims. Who happened to be wannabe Sith. I had a feeling this place was going to get old quickly.

The flunky asked me how he should torment his three victims. Carth muttered some derogatory mark. "Oh, get over yourself," was my answer.

"What?" he said, turning his attention fully to me.

"You don't want to hurt these people. It's a waste of your time," I said, weight of persuasion in my voice. He let them go and wandered off a little confused.

"Handy trick."

"I get the feeling this particular handy trick is going to come in real handy this trip," I said. And for the first time since he heard his son was living as a Sith, he laughed. Chuckle was more appropriate, but camaraderie and amusement was back in him, slowly returning. We finally made it to the welcome desk and I browsed the weapons, bought him a second blaster that he seemed to like. We headed on only to be accosted three steps later.

"Oh, wow, a fallen Jedi, I've never seen one of those before," began the first apprentice, female, mediocre force powers, blond. Her hair was like mine on a good day, not spiky, but she ruined the effect by styling it into two hideous fluffy mounds in the front.

"I hate the fallen ones, they act like they're so good," the second apprentice said. He and his friend were backup for the female and it was painfully obvious.

"Aww, look, schoolyard bullies. Aren't they cute?" Carth asked. Oh, these people could so pick someone better to mess with because the both of us were heavily armed and in the worst of moods. I liked it.

"Smart mouthed newcomers, to boot. The Sith are legion here. Do you have any idea how many there are in Dreshdae?" the blond asked.

"Is this a raffle? How many guesses do we get?" he asked. I let him at it, couldn't not smirk.

"Whether you live or die depends on _my_ whim!" she said. Oh, she was new. She could not even be initiated yet as a dark Jedi. She was still trying to flex power that was new to her.

"You can try to kill me. You'd fail, but you can try," I said, calm. She was an initiate on a planet that valued bloodshed. Killing her wouldn't bring the Sith down upon our ears. It'd raise us in their eyes, which we probably needed if we were going to get into the Academy.

"Let me kill them, Lashowe, please," the third apprentice said. She narrowed her eyes at me. I smiled serenely, waited. I think the second began to get creeped out by the look.

"No. Amuse me, newcomer, and I will let you live."

"Make the first move; it'll be your last."

"Ha! This one isn't afraid of you," said the third.

"Come on, this is boring," said the second, looking eager to be away from me. Lashowe relented and they walked off. Carth seemed just a little surprised.

"I did not think they'd run off like that. I mean, we…" he trailed off, looking a little bashful. We'd provoked them.

"We cannot show weakness here, Carth. We need into the Academy and I'd rather not have everyone trying to kill us at least until we are ready to leave so I'm going to have to pose as a 'hopeful.' And bitchy attitude comes with the territory." He laughed and nodded.

"I can do that."

"Actually…" I trailed of. Ooh, how do I put this? "A fallen Jedi has a really good chance to get in. Already trained Force user, I mean, come on. But… you're going to have to be a servant or something to me. They wouldn't accept you otherwise."

He shrugged. "That's okay." And I thought he was going to have a problem. But, naturally, I underestimated how distracted learning of his son must have been. We trudged onward, spoke to a few people here and there. Everyone knew of the Hawk and its purpose. One person hit me up for the cargo. I told him to wait for the Mandalorian to hit town and talk to him about it.

And it didn't take long to learn that any other way into the Academy, aside from being accepted, was improbable. So, we went to the front doors. A nasty little man was having people stand in one spot without food or water. He moved on after I talked to him. I convinced one of them to leave, convinced another just before he passed out, and the third victim was beyond hearing distance. I used my Force brand of persuasion on the final one, had the fitter of the three carry the unconscious man away before approaching the doorman. I had to have a medallion or approval from Yuthura Ban, Twi'lek second in command, cantina rat.

"Perfect," I muttered, starting back towards the Czerka complex. There was a bunch of Sith thugs at the end of the hallway looking like they wanted a fight. I'd save them as a second option. I headed in to talk to Yuthura. She was purple, vibrantly so, and probably had a lightsaber to match it. She stared at me for a long moment, and we chatted. I didn't understand what the hell all the other hopefuls were complaining about, I answered a few questions, half of them honestly, and was automatically in. Maybe she heard of my bravado with Lashowe, or maybe it was the dual, full length lightsabers. Or maybe it was the random question of 'If I killed you, would I be accepted in?' Whatever.

I got in. Uthar was there and he rambled for a while about prestige and being ready for the darkside. It sounded tired, worn. Like he had seen it all before, and these students were like last years students, and them, like the year before. He turned eyes like yellowed bones to me and stared. "I sense a kernel of the darkside in you," he rasped, low, distant. I'm sure this should have surprised me, scared me, made me question myself. But I saw the kernel too, what use was there in denying it? I stared at him and felt something I hadn't felt since the Endar Spire. Immense. Like he was but a flicker before me. He sent us off.

The final test was in a tomb on the surface, where Darth Revan and Darth Malak had went to get the Star Map. So polite of them to tell me that. So, I needed into that tomb, thus I needed to win the little contest they set out. I could always just kill off all the other hopefuls, worse come to worse.

Yuthura spoke to me immediately after, named me her champion, conspired with me to kill Uthar, told me to speak with the others. So, I ran about speaking to all the other children here, the other hopefuls. I lied to Lashowe and was set to meet her somewhere to gain prestige with her. She was planning on betraying me, but couldn't do the quest on her own. In other words, she'd have to pull a fast one on me, and the girl obviously wasn't fast. Shaardan had a few choice words for me, but that was only because I scared him. He didn't want to take me on fairly, because he knew he'd loose. I let it be. Mekel said something about heading off to some tombs to get some artifacts. Vague, and hell, I planned on plundering the tombs while I was here anyways because the final test was just far enough off that it seemed wise.

Kel Algwinn, fellow student, was sweet, confused. He was like a freshman in college who realized he didn't like his major. I told him to change it to Jedi. He seemed thankful and scurried off. I had no doubt that he'd have been dead soon had I not. And we found Carth's son in my class, studying avidly when we found his bunk.

They argued bitterly. The son accused the father of not being around while he grew, and the father, in turn, blamed it on the Sith that the son had become. The kid had some notion that the Sith were a caring type of family. That was almost painful to hear, because it was going to be a rude awakening, another abandonment. I eventually broke it up right before it got physical. Dustil challenged us to find proof of their evilness. Proof? Like the starving bodies at the front door or Taris' blown surface or the rebellious kids hiding in a cave currently? It needed to be personal. There had to be something.

I was breaking into Uthar's room when Carth spoke up. "We need to get to the final test, to the Star Map. Are you sure breaking into the headmaster's room is a good thing?" he asked. He knew why I was doing it too.

"Dustil first. I lie my way out of this, or fight my way to the caves, or, hell, kill Uthar, or blame it on Shaardan, or something. But we need to find something in order to get him out of here before things fall to shit. He can't get caught in the crossfire."

"The Star Maps are more important," he said lightly, subdued. I grinned and shrugged.

"Nothing is keeping me from the maps, and I doubt this will, either. Besides, I'll take something of Uthar's and put it in Shaardan's trunk and tip the guy off about it. He'll be angry and do something to Shaardan." Carth smiled a little.

"Why Shaardan?"

"I hate that punk," I muttered, and finished picking the lock. We scavenged the room, I stole a robe for Shaardan, and found a datapad with some interesting information on it. We headed back.

"Back so soon?" he asked, trying to mocking.

"Yea, well, you know, all you have to do is have your eyes open to see that the Sith are evil," Carth shot back. I poked him and he handed the datapad over. It didn't take Dustil long, and the kid looked like a kicked puppy for a few seconds. Like I knew he would. Like his father had looked when we first spoke of betrayal. He made vows to turn around, fight, snoop.

"Be quick, though. I'm not even kidding when I say that. Be off the planet before I take my final test."

"Are you sure you don't need help?" he asked. I laughed. I wouldn't let a grown Mandalorian fight beside me, but I was going to let the estranged eighteen year old son of my crush help me out?

"That's fine, really. I'm not even allowed to have my 'slave' with me when I take the test. Carth, you should stay with him for a while," I offered. He shook his head.

"No, you need some help while you're here," he said. Damn it, no! I did not want him there with me as I wandered the death, the sand, the dark world that embraced me. So, naturally, I hit him where it hurt.

"Carth, you've abandoned your son for war and the greater good enough! I will not be the reason the two of you don't repair your relationship. Stop thinking of yourself," I said. He'd have looked less surprised if I hit him with a mallet produced from thin air then sped off in one of those tiny clown cars. He also looked hurt. I felt no regret. The kid ruined it, however, by starting to laugh.

"Dude, she just played you!" he said, pointing out how aptly I hit those fresh wounds. He blinked his surprise off, but a little of the hurt was there, with confusion, and now suspicion.

"Why don't you want me to go out there with you?" he asked, distrust sharpening his voice. I tried again. I threw my arms up in the air with a disgusted sound.

"Carth Onasi, I have done _nothing_ to deserve this kind of suspicion from you! I helped you find your son, for Force's sake! I'm tried of trying to prove myself to you. We still need a pilot, but stay away from me," I snapped. Damn boy laughed harder.

"Oh, she's good. Twice in a row, man, you should hit the Nar'Shaddaa casino tables!"

"Morgan, stop it. Explain, now," Carth said, calm now, quickly getting impatient. Dustil cocked a head at me, wanting to hear the explanation too, because he had his own ideas as to why. I think he caught the protectiveness, the hint of romantic love.

I sighed. "Dustil, have you been to the Valley of the Dark Lords?" I asked.

"Yes. It's dangerous up there. I understand why you don't want him to go." I shook my head.

"It is dangerous, yes, but we've seen danger before. I trust him to stand steady, to protect himself, mostly. Though, I do still worry," I said, giving him a soft smile. He smiled back. "But… it's also dark out there. It's like how you described the darkside, Carth. Like something living, waiting to swallow a person whole. Korriban breathes and watches." I swallowed. I didn't want to say the rest. I didn't want to tell him I didn't want him there because I could fall, pretend it's for the sake of the mission, be _swallowed_ by Korriban. I feared myself.

He put an arm around me. "Tough shit. I'm going with you, but… I mean, if it's okay if I…" he trailed off. The question wasn't for me. Dustil smiled lightly.

"When you're in from the Valley, we'll talk. I'm not there yet, I mean, I'm not sure…." Dustil looked up at his father. He'd been so angry for so long that he wasn't sure he could easily come back from it. Carth looked like he wanted to say something. His throat worked at it, his mouth moved but it was soundless. I decided to bail him out.

"Dustil, your father searched for you. He's been planning revenge since day one. He didn't have a life beyond it, beyond the thought of you and your mother. He couldn't even tell people he trusted fairly well about you and her. Now that he's found you, he will spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to you. Kid, you should give up now," I said. Carth nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but he was still unable to talk.

Dustil chuckled. "Yea, maybe. I suppose I'll be seeing you, too?" he asked, more statement than question. I shrugged and Carth finally found the voice to laugh.

"Probably," he said, shaky.

"I have to go meet up with Lashowe now. It's not a very dangerous task," I offered. He shook his head.

"You've tried that one, remember?" So I had. Twice. With much suave. We headed off. I dropped by Shaardan's bunk to drop off his present, and headed back to my own bunk for a few moments. Carth was smiling slightly as we headed out. It almost made up for the sense of foreboding I had entering the Valley of the Dark Lords.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

We entered a new place. There was someone to fight. Old story, but the new twist was that it was Darth Bandon, Malak's apprentice. He made a show of bravado but I wasn't listening. I was too busy thinking of the Endar Spire, worthy prey. Something in me had a great and utter disdain for this creature, that something this pathetic was a Sith Lord. I didn't even know where it came from. I motioned for Carth to stand back and Bandon did the same.

We fought for a while. I learned something then that I hadn't really known before. I was good. Very, very good. As in, he was second in all the Sith and I was playing with him. He knew it; I made it obvious. With all his rage feeding his powers, on this dark world, and he was still no match. His body hadn't even dropped to the ground before I pounced on the other two, slicing the obvious flunkies with quick motions and wide armed strokes. I tipped my head and we moved on.

"You seemed… to enjoy that," he said. I nodded.

"I did. I like testing myself against others, my skill and strength against theirs. I… like fighting. Is that wrong?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No. I still go to shooting ranges on shore leaves." It made me laugh.

"That doesn't mean you're right, it just means we both might be wrong," I said. He shrugged and we headed on. We dipped into the Shyrack caves before meeting with Lashowe; it's not like she could start without me. The tarentatek in the cave was easily found, easily killed with the proper stun. And these things are a terror to Force users around the galaxy? We found the kids on the way out, helped them to safety.

We headed out to Lashowe. She berated me for being late because she had done her little birdcall to get the beast near, but she was beginning to think she was going to get eaten. She told me to be on guard and we attacked. Well, Carth and I attacked, she hung back, mostly. Then she gutted the creature, got the prestige item, and was about to walk off with it because I was a slow walker? Seriously? She could have thought of something better. Apparently she didn't see how I just killed something that scared her, so, we fought and I won.

"Is it me, or do the Sith get stupider as the years pass?" Carth asked. I shrugged, agreeing. We plundered the tombs over the course of about two days. I shut off the assassin droid's assassin programming. I killed Jorak Uln and spared Mekel, sent him off to the Jedi. When he had left the room, I shocked Jorak's corpse again for the hell of it. Bastard. I even managed to talk a phantom out of an afterlife of the darkside. A Sith Lord. How I managed that, I have no clue. But hey, Shaardan hit me up at the entrance of the cave and I gave him a fake sword. Uthar killed him and it seemed I was almost destined to win by default.

Either way, handing over a few dusty tablets, holocrons, and lies won me the contest. He told me to go prepare myself. I went in search of Dustil. All we found was a datapad that was just a little obscure, but in the end meant that he was gone. I turned to Carth. "You should head back to the ship. The possibility that this place is going to get turned on its ear…" I trailed of because his features shot down in anger.

"No, I absolutely should leave you to an entire Academy full of Sith! I need…" his voice broke. "I promised to help you, protect you. I can't do that from the ship," he said. Wow, that made me feel like bantha poodoo. We both needed a reason to live and we had found it in each other. I nodded, the great concession.

"Meet me at the door in from the valley." He nodded, not pleased with the situation but pleased with my concession. We spend the night mostly awake, talking. Past, present, future. Still, beyond his vow to protect me, no promises had been made. I understood his hesitation, especially here on Korriban, with the weight of the darkside ever present. He told me he could just feel that there was some crescendo waiting, some major choice that there would be no turning back from, and that it would be hard. The end of the trail. I agreed with him. He said all the suspicious things that he had thought of me he now believed might have been because of the Jedi, and that they were keeping things from he and I. I agreed to that, too. He said they were setting me up for a fall. Sadly, I still agreed with him.

I had hesitations of my own in the romantic area, despite my rather grandiose flirting. I didn't think like normal people; I was weird. I didn't like being touched; I woke late in the night constantly; I was called to by dark places. I mean, he suspected me because something was afoul and I still didn't know what. To add to that, I was beginning to think I was possessed by a dead Sith Lord. _Possessed?_ I shook that off.

The sense of foreboding, of _wrong_ returned in full force as I followed Yuthura and Uthar to Naga Sadow's tomb. The other tombs had only given me minor feelings of vertigo, familiarity. This tomb hummed with it. I was almost in a daze, walking through, solving complex problems with stunning speed. I made it to the Star Map and turned to leave, feeling that this was so very anti-climatic. Wasn't this what the buildup was from? Apparently not, and the two masters were awaiting me in the iced acid pool beyond.

Funny thing, they both told me to kill the other, having no doubt as to my ability to do so. I mean, that had to have been unusual.

"Do you need help making your decision?" Uthar hissed.

"No. Within Yuthura, I see a kernel of the lightside. Let's see if I can make her fly," I said. He cursed in an ancient language and pulled his saber. Except. The language, the words. The speeder finally kicked. My brain spun into full speed, roaring to life with all that I was and all that I had been. My back snapped straight, eyes burned yellow, and I narrowed those glowing eyes on him.

"How DARE you question me! I will admit that my graven image was much withheld, so I will give you leniency in this. Test me again, Child, and I will not be so forgiving," I said, pulling my own lightsaber. It smoldered with a paltry blue shine. Not mine, but crafted and upgraded by my own hand.

"Who do you think you are?" Yuthura asked, pulling back in rage and fear. I smiled, benign, loving.

"You may address me as Darth Revan, My Lord Revan, or simply My Lord," I purred stalking towards the two. Uthar began laughing.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said, then attacked. I cut him down quickly, heard him murmur my name as he died. Yuthura fell to a knee, head bowed, headtails curling softly to the floor.

"Liege," she began. I placed a hand on her head, beckoned she rise. She did, looking uncertain, looking much like a child. "I… if I have ever mislead you," she began, speaking of her words of compassion to me within the Academy. I waved it off.

"Yuthura, I am not of the Sith anymore. It is not my place. Neither, I think, is it yours," I began. She gave a short, mirthless laugh.

"The Jedi, then? I do not belong there," she said. I echoed her laugh.

"Me neither. We are not… patient enough, too passionate, too caring, with our own agendas. But you have been stalled in your agenda. I think now would be a good time to return to it, and perhaps find balance in your life."

"Balance is talk of the lightside, how can one such as I be redeemed?"

"Balance is not of the Light. Balance is both Light and Dark, equal in their respects. I favor neither extreme." She nodded.

"I will heed your advice, Milord. That does sound… appealing."

"May I ask…? If I call for you, would you come?" I asked. She glanced up sharply, highly surprised.

"Yes, Milord. You rescued me from that slime pit; you led me out to glory. I would follow you anywhere," she said.

"Good. Because soon, I think, I shall have need of forces. Until then, Yuthura, you should be off. Here, this is the vidnumber for a man I know who can help you with your quest," I said, scrawling out a couple of characters into a datapad and handing it to her. She scampered off. I headed back to the Academy. I was spotted, sans Uthar, and challenged. But they were not a Sith Headmaster and their insolence did not bother me. I slaughtered them all and thought nothing of it.

I entered the Academy and tripped over… "Carth?" I faltered, fell to a knee, he caught me. It didn't take long for people to begin questioning where Uthar was. But then, it didn't take me long to get back on my feet. We made it from the Academy, bloody and scratched, but otherwise not much worse for wear.

We got back to the ship. Carth had taken charge, sitting me at the kitchen table with something warm to drink and bundled me into a blanket. "Sit with her; I think she's in shock," he said, heading quickly to the cockpit to get us off the planet. I sat there, trying to remember the fight with Uthar, what I said. I drifted off in the chair, head on the kitchen table.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_The Ebon Hawk_

Bastila folded her arms over her impressive chest and glared at me. Jolee seemed quietly amused. "Well, we haven't been here in a while."

"Coming to Korriban was dangerous," I began.

"Why?" Bastila asked. _Home_.

"Because these old stones remember me. My old disciples challenged me and even from the distance it annoyed me. Bandon, pathetic replacement. Uthar, with his aged bone colored eyes, wise for his paradigm, insolent. Yuthura, carrying with her a hurt similar to mine and a promise etched on her soul. These are my people, my world. More so than any other in all the galaxies, this, Korriban is home. Still, Ajunta is at rest, and that pleases me. We spoke before, briefly." I shook my head. "I almost wish to be myself again, because there is so much left damaged in the galaxy by me that I have the keys to fix."

"Time. Patience," Jolee said. I had long noticed that he spoke to the Jedi Morgan in lengthy ways, but spared few words for me. Of course, all of the philosophies would bleed together for me, all the variants of all the cultures and all the teachings I had learned. I nodded.

"He will calm her… me," I began. I spared a glance for Bastila that had within me the beginnings of possessiveness, anger, love. I wanted; I needed. And I wanted to be deserving. "Let him," I said, calm steal. She nodded, her head tipped, considering me. I caught only the echo of these thoughts; that Carth Onasi held demons at bay for me, and while it is not the Jedi way, it could be _my_ way. I think she saw the knife's edge of resolution and madness. I dismissed them from my dream and woke only a bit later, in the arms of Carth Onasi, on the couch in the common area. I was still a little shaky, still reeling from a memory blackout.

"I don't remember much of the test. I don't remember defeating Uthar, but I know I did. I don't remember persuading Yuthura to leave the darkside, but I know I did. This… memory lapse is disconcerting," I explained. He laughed.

"Just disconcerting? I'm not sure what's going on either, but you've had memory problems since the destruction of the Endar Spire," he trailed off, looking concerned. I grinned at him, trying to fight past my own growing sense of unease.

"Yea, well, maybe when this is all over I can hit a specialist on Coruscant and have my brain fixed. He laughed at the joke, shaking his head and running a hand through my shorn, spiky hair.

"As long as you still remember me, I'm fine." He was quiet for a moment, and then he sighed. "It's funny. I finally start thinking of having a future with someone and it happens to be a person with such an uncertain future," he cut off abruptly, grimaced. "Sorry, it's just…." I finished for him.

"It's just that you believe the Jedi have thrown me to the wolves, which they have, and that I may be incredibly over my head, which I totally disagree with but that's because I'm arrogant and not because I'm not in over my head."

"Look, it's not my paranoia. I mean, they just happen to request your presence on the Endar Spire and, poof, amazingly you're Force sensitive and they take you to be trained by their patented little lackey. I like Bastila, but I think she's hiding things." I nodded. "You'd figured that out already, hadn't you?" I nodded again. "Damn it, I'm the paranoid one! How come I didn't figure it out until now?"

"Because you still had to contend with the 'what if Morgan knows what's up and is duping the Jedi.' I'm me, so I know I'm innocent. Different ballpark," I said. He winced.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've doubted you since day one and there's no way for me to make up for that," he said, still stroking my hair. I waggled my eyebrows.

"Oh, I can think of something."

"Why, if I didn't know any better I'd think that you were coming on to me," he said. Then he kissed me. It wasn't like our first kiss, light, tender. He poured into this one all his fear, frustration, and loneliness that he had built up for ages, not to mention all the sexual tension that built between us from all the bawdy comments and 'accidental' brushes. I returned all the emotion, tunneling my hands through his hair, twisting on his lap for a better angle. He was so warm, so _alive_ after I had been living my death one day at a time. The ship lurched and I went rolling, smacking my head into a nearby table.

"Bloody freaking _hell_, that is just what I need!" Oh, someone was going to pay. I almost had gotten lucky, damn it! He helped me to my feet, chuckling a little over the obvious lament in my eyes, and dashed to the cockpit. Within moments everyone was awake, within moments we discovered the ship that held us in thrall. The Leviathan. Saul Karath's ship

Lovely. I mean that. The fact that we were intercepted by _any_ Sith battle ship was bad, but if it was going to be any one, I'd rather it be this one. I'd rather Carth to have the chance to put this chapter in his life behind him, once and for all. Still, all things considered, I made him promise not to do anything suicidal or stupid. He seemed a little offended that I had to ask. Well, gee, Carth, you had years to plan killing Saul and only a few months to get to know me.

"Talk of escape is a little premature," Bastila said.

"We'll need a rescue because you, me, and Carth are boned." I took a glance at the remaining members of my crew. It was times like this when I wanted to shoot myself. It's not that I didn't trust them do to the job, it's that I didn't want them to do it. So, I weighed my options. T3M4 was out; he was a good mechanic but otherwise not good in battle. HK-47 would have no issue mowing down people but he had assassin droid written all over his rusty blood colored hide and was bound to be watched. Plus, I didn't trust HK to be discrete. Zaalbar was a large Wookie, destined to be well watched. Canderous was good and he could fool people, but I had some doubts as to whether they'd leave his weapons anywhere near him. Mission was a good slicer, but she was also fourteen and not that good at mowing down multiples of Sith guards. Jolee I trusted to be able to extricate himself, but I didn't trust that they'd leave any of our Jedi companions alive. So, I chose the Jedi who could to a really nice invisible trick, and Juhani got picked.

"I will attempt to free you as soon as the ruckus settles down," she said. I shook my head.

"You have to make sure there are as few guards around as possible. Karath is bound to make an appearance and you don't get to be a commander of the Sith unless you're good at what you do. Be careful." She nodded.

They boarded. We offered some resistance, just not more than necessary. We knew it was a matter of time, they knew it was a matter of time. They eventually gassed us. Bastila and I looked at each other through the mist that didn't much effect us before I shrugged, taking in the vapor tranquilizer and falling into a deep sleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_The Leviathan_

True to my words, Saul Karath showed up, to gloat and poke fun. He and Carth argued for a bit, a little bitter. Saul touted the ideals of the Sith and Carth vowed revenge. Saul said his words were empty and I thought he was severely underestimating things. He turned to me, spoke of me as having uncertain loyalties. It confused me.

"I am sure Malak will be amused by your dedication to the Jedi, given your history," he purred.

"History?" I asked. What I felt on Korriban returned, that shuddering sense of unease, of wrong. Like there was someone off color about the entire world, but, then again, it could always just be me. Saul seemed amused. He goaded, I bit. I threatened him and he said that my words were empty, that Sith value action. "Then drop this field and I will give you action." Disappointingly, he didn't. Rather, he told me he'd shock Carth if I didn't answer his interrogation questions. Oh, bloody hell.

"Where were you trained? Where is the secret academy?" he asked. But then, the fact that he knew of its existence meant something. I blinked, slowly, stretching beyond. And Dantooine was dead. I answered truthfully and my companions seemed shocked. Saul filled them in on the destruction, looking only at me.

"What is your mission?" I wanted to. I wanted to tell him; I wanted Malak to know I was coming for him. But then Malak might prepare himself and I did not wish to die before fighting him. At my silence, he shocked Carth. My eyes didn't move from Karath's. It hurt, listening to Carth howl in pain, but I sensed that Karath feared me. Any emotion on my part would spur him on because Karath hurt what he feared. That caring, human part of me just sort of shut down then. So I stared at him when he asked the question again, shocked Carth again. He took his eyes off me to watch Carth writhe, but the reason there was obvious. He feared Carth more than he feared me.

As he should. I was like a tiger. If I escaped and he was near, he'd die. If Carth escaped and Karath wasn't near, he'd go hunting. He had Saul in his sight, Saul's blood on his lips. When he looked back at me, I was still staring at him, smiling lightly, thinking bloody and fun thoughts that involved his organs. He scampered out, left orders with the guards to shock that smug look off my face. They did.

I woke slowly, groggy, and my body did not ache, just my head and it did so fiercely. "Not so quick," Carth advised, I swung my head toward him. "They continued on when Karath left. I don't know why, but they all seemed content on shocking you more." Maybe I scared them. I didn't exactly scream in pain so much as roar it. "For a moment there…" he stopped, because he didn't want to tell me how much he wished I could have stopped Karath from hurting him.

"Karath fears you; he'd have tormented you anyways. If I relented, watched, displayed pain, he'd have tormented you more. Still… I'm sorry," I said softly.

"Stop. This is more important. Had the tables been turned… I'm not sure I could have done the same and we'd have both been worse off for it," He said. I nodded. I supposed that's why I liked him so much. He couldn't just shut off human compassion like it was a switch on a droid. I was brooding when the door opened and my crew filed in, looking battle touched but not fatigued. We planned out our next moves, retrieved our equipment, and set off.

The rest of them went for the Ebon Hawk, secure my ship. Bastila, Carth, and I headed for the bridge. Bastila let me come because they could possibly use my Force powers. Carth let me come because he didn't dispute that I was in charge of the mission. Had been since Taris. We arrived on the bridge after a few minor battles and some dark Jedi. Dark Jedi were crawling all over the place. I didn't stop to play.

When we made it to the bridge, Carth and Saul spared each other a few words that spoke of respect, vengeance, and old friendship turned sour. I rushed Karath and the Dark Jedi at his side, sending lightning scattering through the room before me. We cleared out the bridge and I headed towards the terminal to release the Hawk.

Karath started coughing, his eyes wheeling back in his head, asking for Carth. I turned to watch Carth start towards him with patient eyes. How very convenient that the only person I had left standing would be Karath, hm? I counseled him against anger. He ranted. The dying man beckoned him closer. He whispered something, laughed, died. Carth stood slowly, turned to Bastila. And, oddly, there was rage in his eyes.

"Bastila, you knew. You lied to me. The Jedi council lied to me. Force, how can you _live_ with yourself? I mean, how _could_ you?" Shock and hurt danced through his voice. Bastila paled.

"We don't have time for this. Please, Malak is on his way," she pleaded.

"When we get back to the Hawk, I want some answers," he growled, and we headed out. I didn't ask questions, but Force help me I'd get the answers. I didn't say it; I didn't ask. But Karath had told Carth the Jedi's little secret about yours truly and I'd be damned if I didn't find it out. Figure it out. I nearly stumbled but I kept running, fighting. I didn't see my opponents any more. Because Carth's reaction. Bastila's hedging. The avoidance of the subject. The Sith have been known to wipe a mind clean, convert a person to their will. Weaken one, as the other side grows strong. Please no. Kashyyyk's computer. Korriban's insolent masters.

We cleared a set of blast doors and there was Malak. "I was surprised to see you alive. I was surprised the Jedi were able to capture you," he said with his mechanical voice. My head was spinning and I walked toward him in a half stumble.

"I don't know what you're talking about," it was defensive, almost desperate. Please no.

"Why, Revan, you mean… is it true?" he mocked. His brown eyes were darkened and yellowed. His eyes were shadowed, his skin pallid, his bald head now tattooed. The bottom half of his face was missing beneath that horrible metal.

"Your mind was damaged. We healed you," Bastila began.

"Your mind was not damaged, they mind wiped you to make you usable to them," he shot at her.

"I understand, Bastila," I said dully.

"Forgiveness? You have fallen far, Revan," he said. Forgiveness? No, she let a monster live; I wasn't sure I could forgive her yet. Was that _me_ or the person they programmed over me? I had a feeling it was me, that that self hatred was my own. I crept closer to him as he and Bastila bickered. I touched the skin above his left eye, caressed my hand back from there like I had done thousands of times in childhood after I had made a joke about his pervasive baldness. His eyes widened and he stopped sprouting his Sith propaganda. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he slapped me away, drew his weapon as I drew mine, cast a stasis field on Bastila and Carth.

When we fought, the moment had evaporated, gone like so much smoke. I could almost feel that Revan had retreated rather than fight him. Which made no sense, really. He had betrayed her… me, why would she not wish him dead? I'd ponder it later. Right now, I had a fight to enjoy. Bastila interrupted, told us she'd hold him off, and a door closed between me… and both my preys. "Damn it!" I said, slamming a hand on the door. "Come on." And we hurried to the Hawk and off the Leviathan.

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_The Ebon Hawk_

We had run away from a bad fight and as luck would have it, our stock, weapons and food, had been untouched. "What happened to Bastila?" this, from Jolee.

"She is fighting Darth Malak currently. The only way we're going to be able to get her back will be to find the last Star Map on Manaan," I said.

"We have bigger issues here. Do you want to tell them what Malak said, or should I?" Carth asked, emerging from the cockpit. Without Bastila here for him to displace his anger on, he settled on me. I didn't blame him.

"I'm Revan. I was captured by the Jedi, healed or mind wiped or both, and sent on this quest," I said, never one to shy from the hard truth. I sat hard on the common area couch, where only hours before Carth and I… I let out a bitter laugh. Well, I guess that was shot. He ranted. How dare the council send a Sith Lord with them without warning! How can we go on with me about? Then it came to a question of trust.

T3M4 beeped his approval. Mission spoke quickly to my defense, how this wasn't my fault. Juhani stayed mostly quiet. Jolee knew and that didn't surprise me. Zaalbar stood with me. So did Canderous, he was as honored to fight beside me as I had been to fight next to him. "Well, you know, you could be less Mandalorian and actually hate me for what I did to your people," I said. He shrugged it off. HK-47 tipped his metal head to the side, buzzed a little, and informed us all that I had created him and that I was his true owner. It pleased him to see me. Carth relented a bit and we moved on.

"I guess we'll just have to put our personal feelings aside and focus on the mission." He headed to the cockpit, which was very fortunate for me. Because I'm sure the gratuitous amounts of shock on my face would have been embarrassing. Put his personal feelings aside? Put up with me; grit and bear it? I was a chore, a task, an unpleasant fact you tiptoed around. So, like I did in the torture cages on the Leviathan; I shut off more human parts and moved on.

I avoided him on the trip as much I could. I didn't want to talk to him; I didn't want to think of all that could have been. I didn't want to spontaneously combust into Darth Revan and hurt him. Maybe I'd do the world a favor and get myself killed in the trip to kill Darth Malak. Bastila spoke of redemption, that this would redeem me. I had remembered telling her about Saul that no one was beyond redemption. I doubted. So, naturally, I went to Jolee. I sat in meditative pose in front of him, waited for acknowledgement.

"Yes?" he said, sounding less grumpy than usual. I swallowed; how should I word this? He spoke without me having to. He told me of this girl had knew, who betrayed him and went off to fight at Exar Kun's side. Someone he loved, someone he trained. And he left the Jedi order because they accepted him back, exonerated him, forgave him. He was staring out into space when he finished.

"So, were you redeemed?" I asked. He smiled, slightly.

"No. I ran and hermited myself, made no move to help the galaxy. But hey, I figure if you can be redeemed and fighting to change what you wrought, it should be possible for me," he said. I glared. "Kidding. Actually, I think I was waiting for you and waiting to forgive myself." I nodded and together we meditated, found some semblance of peace in the other.

The day before we arrived on Manaan, I fell asleep quickly. I opened my eyes to a grey world and it was no longer Dantooine. It was an unnamed world on the edge of space, atop a temple built to honor fallen warriors. I was hooded and in my robes; I was Revan. Bastila was there, looking tired. Malak, doubtlessly, would torture her, torment her, convert her in a dark place of dark power.

What was a gal to do? Well, naturally, I'd aid him. It would spare her anguish and cause her to think of allying with me. Cause her to revere me as others do, sway her easily to me when I come to reclaim her. So, I shared with her all those maddening dark whispers from a far off emperor. I gave her my dark ties, gave her those occasional evil urges I had. I'm not a person who believed in evil, because people are innately lustful, wanting creatures and most evil deeds can be explained by that ingrained want. But evil, mean things for no reason with no gain, those exist. I fed her those through the bond. I fed her my touch of madness earned from walking a fine line for too long. I wrapped it up in a nice bow, made it seem logical and smart, told her to find her true master. And left that at that.

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_Manaan_

We arrived, paid our dues, proceeded into the city as a mass group because I thus needed to be watched. Manaan. The mud baths, relaxation treatments, spas, hot springs, kolto rejuvenation pools. The manicures and beaches and my tan. I wanted to come here and vacation, soak my weary bones in warm water with a warm body and a cold, throat burning drink. So, I was in a very, very bad mood when we set off.

To add insult to injury, Sith were crawling all over the place. Which would have fit my mood more than nicely, bash some heads in, take out my frustration on someone else. Gosh, I might even envision a few choice people while I did it. Unfortunately, the Republic was expected to play nice. No beating Sith thugs for the insults they took pleasure in handing out with impunity; no goading them into attacks then killing them; and, certainly, no breaking and entering. Which, if I may say, sucked royally.

I ignored the exotic species trader; I had killed off the gizka shortly after they had been dumped on my ship. We all wandered about for a little bit, learning what there was to know, scouting out the place, getting maps and little magnets that said 'My friend went to Manaan and all I got was this lousy magnet.' Jolee got hit up by a friend along the way, and I left Mission and Zaalbar with him as help. He complained I was just getting rid of him, true, and that I was getting rid of Mission and Zaalbar as well. But Mission was a slicer and a good liar, which was bound to be helpful for him. And Zaalbar, well, Zaalbar was there in case something went wrong. I trusted him to keep Jolee safe, despite the fact that Jolee was Jedi trained. Overwhelming numbers can, gasp, overwhelm.

The Republic Representative managed to piss me off in less than three seconds. New record, discounting Carth, of course. Hey, you're on a very important mission from the Jedi in order to win the war and save billions, etc. Well, gee, that's pretty important. What's that? Need a Star Map that I know the location of? Well, I'd be happy to help. For a price.

Bastard. I grabbed the keycard for the hangar, and set out. I dropped by to give Jolee the heads up before heading out. He seemed a little uneasy of the prospect of illegal actions on Manaan. Need Star Map, must break and enter. Of course, as soon as I got to the base it was suddenly worth it. Pay dirt. We battered out way through the base, got what the Republic Rep wanted. We also found some majorly disillusioned students, were able to persuade them to leave upon finding another of their number tortured somewhere.

I also found the whole plan nicely detailed on a datapad and pocketed it for the Selkath to have a gander at. Three steps out of the Sith base and we were stopped and captured. Tried and quickly exonerated. Would someone please think of the children! The Selkath agreed and I was free to go cause more havoc. We checked back in with our government supported rep and were told how we could get to the Star Map, assuming that while we were there we could possibly do them a tiny favor.

"We can only fit three people into this submergible. The rest of you can find Jolee, maybe fill him in on what's happening here or see the Selkath in the bar and fill him in." They looked at each other and then back at me. Oh, was I still in charge despite being a blood thirsty murderer? Well then. "Carth, Canderous, with me. HK-47, I'd like you to wait nearby and keep an eye on things here in the embassy, okay?"

They all nodded their assent. Now, Carth was the last person that I wanted to be around right now, but he was also most likely to argue if I didn't allow him along. Needed to keep an eye on your friendly neighborhood Sith lord. I'd also rather have had HK with me, but taking a paranoid pilot down into a dangerous situation after just being outed as previously on the other side of the board and having your assassin droid follow along…. Maybe I'm getting smarter in my old age.

We descended and I was struck cold by that thought. I didn't even know how old I was. This whole sham of 'Morgan' seemed… doomed, destined to fall apart, to go and never come back. Dying I could do, I've been faced with that before. But this… it was like a destruction of the soul, like dying and then ceasing to exist, like…. That thought cut off abruptly with a rather sudden realization. Revan, I, had thought that before. I couldn't deny who I was because I was as much Darth Revan as I was Morgan Greye.

"You're quiet, Revan," Canderous rumbled from the seat behind me. He switched to calling me that quickly, but it didn't bother me like it should have. I shrugged.

"I was thinking. HK-47 said I was like the Revan he knew except compassionate, more. I was thinking that if my memory loss ended that maybe I wouldn't become something different," I said. I smiled fondly at the thought of HK's little rant in that conversation. He'd have killed Malak to protect me, knowing who I was. It was… heartwarming. Carth remained quiet and that was for the best because I was thinking of his promise, how wonderful it had been, and how incredibly exempt I was from it now. He vowed to protect Morgan, not Revan. Not me.

There was a panicked person that I told to sit in a corner and wait. He told me I'd die. I thought that was amusing as hell. The crazed Selkath fought rather well. I tried knocking the majority of them unconscious because something had caused this and on their own they were stalwart supporters. We came to a place where I needed to leave them behind, venture forth to the other part of the complex through dark, shark infested waters. "I'll be back in two hours," I said, giving no instructions for what would happen if I was late. I wouldn't be late; I wouldn't fail. I headed out. I was ambushed inside the other complex by two eccentric and panicked scientists. I calmed them down, told them to go sit in a corner and wait. I headed back out onto the ocean floor, made my way slowly to the controls I need to.

I saw the shark before I arrived, saw the Star Map just beyond, guarded by the giant beast. It looked at me, dared me to come forward. It was angry and hungry and annoyed at being wakened. Insignificant things had invaded its privacy, threatened its way of life. It was power and a force to be feared, ancient and thriving. I sympathized. I decided then to destroy whatever was pissing it off, to let it go back to resting undisturbed. I was going to catch hell for this later.

I reached the Star Map with miles of water above me, copied the coordinates. I stood there for a while, knowing that the last leg of the journey was starting. I stared at something touched by myself a few scant years ago and tried to remember something. Something that would dash my hopes, give me hope, tell me what kind of person I'd become. There was a whisper that floated on the water that didn't help ease my anxiety too much. _All._

I headed back and met up with the boys and was quiet on the trip back through murky waters. I found HK waiting for me when I got back. He gave me a few tips on the judges and the guards waiting outside to take me to court. I had Canderous and Carth wait for me, left the coordinates to the unnamed planet with them, and went to meet the Selkath guards alone. Before long I was back in front of the judges and only beginning to get annoyed rather than being full blown angry. Usually, being incarcerated twice in as many days tends to get me grumpier than this.

I answered truthfully. Oh, you mean that station that you helped the Republic build? Gasp, you knew of it, I'm shocked. No, no, the massive shark is still alive and less pissed off now. You're welcome.

Another case easily won. I met up with the rest of them in the cantina celebrating with a round of drinks on Jolee. "What are we celebrating?"

"Being alive, getting the last of the maps. That's an accomplishment, isn't it?" he asked, almost daring me to contradict. I shrugged.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to party after we went to the location and stopped Malak?" I asked. Jolee shook his head.

"That makes less sense! We could be killed by then, wounded. No, if we're going to celebrate the end of this step, it's better to do it before the next one." I had no argument for that, but I wanted to argue. "We're planning on leaving tomorrow. You should check out the Kolto Regeneration Baths, or the hot springs," he said. I glared.

"I'm fine. I'll be in the ship being a good Jedi and meditating if you…" I cut off abruptly, finally noticing Juhani. Dancing. Nearly topless and three sheets to the wind. Juhani had made me uneasy when she said that it was Revan (me) who had rescued her as a child; it was Revan (me) who made her want to become a Jedi, and she could see the Jedi she met in me. Since I had begun to agree with her, it was tough to argue. I tugged a shirt over her head, admonished Jolee for not watching her properly. "If you need me, I'll be at the Kolto Regen Baths."

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

They had special bathing suits for the baths, designed to cover as little as possible and be as airy as they could be in order to give the healing waters as much access to the skin as possible. The scented, unrefined Kolto was far less potent than what the Republic used to heal but it still had restorative properties of its own. And I didn't realize how long a trip it had been until I sank, chin deep, into that bubbling water. The aches and pains of dozens of battles fought along the path to the Star Forge reacted almost instantly and not all of it was a pleasant reaction. And still… I groaned and sank a touch lower.

Well, I didn't have the cold, alcoholic drink or the warm man, but I had the warm water. The scuff of worn boots, the crinkling of a well abused leather jacket as hands were shoved into its pockets, the scent of lightly applied but expensive cologne masking the unmistakable scent of skin. Crap. I was sunk if I knew him by his scent. He sat beside the pool, staring off into the ocean visible in the balcony beyond.

"Are you ready to talk about me being Revan?" I asked, not even bothering to look at him.

"That depends, are you?" he responded and I heard him shift to face me. I nodded, opened my eyes a slit, and peered at him through half closed eyes, waiting. "I tried hating you. All I ever wanted was to kill Saul and that brought me no peace. You don't have to be Revan; you've shown you can be so much more. You're going to come to a choice soon and I want to give you a reason to make the right decision. I… think I could love you, if you let me," he continued. I wasn't sure what to think of this. I mean, basically he said he didn't trust me on my own and thought I needed to be watched. Or, it could be taken that way. But I knew what he was talking about. In a dark place of dark power I was going to be offered the all of the galaxy to own.

Tempting is a pale word for it, but it was more than that and I was sure Jolee clued him in on it. It was not that I might choose to own all over a path of the light. It was that Revan _had_ chosen to own the galaxy there. It was not a fair choice, it was a choice made with everything dark in my soul pulled to the forefront and gloried. "I trust you, I'm sorry that came out wrong. There's more to it…." He gave me a rather odd look then. "When I dreamed of killing Saul, I thought we'd go out together in some fiery blaze. I know what you're thinking, Morgan," he said. He turned then and started to go. _I think I could love you, if you let me._ Which left two questions that preoccupied my mind far more than the quest that should have been forefront. Could he love me and would I let him?

"Hey, come back here." I poked my head out of the water, one eyebrow raised. He wandered back over.

"I'm afraid," he said, soft. He was afraid of loosing me, one way or another. I smiled gently.

"That just means you have something to loose."

"What about you? Are you afraid?"

"Petrified. Grab a suit." I glanced up sharply, surprised when I heard him shrugging out of that horrible jacket. "Boy scout…. Really?" He laughed.

"You know, I've been known to get wild and break laws too," he said, almost defensive. I gave him a disbelieving look. "I suppose I'll have to regale you with some of my rowdy and younger stories."

"I'm all ears, beautiful. Mostly naked _and_ bawdy stories? Jackpot."

"I could always ruin by reminding you that I'm still suspicious and doubtful."

I cocked my head to the side, studied him while he fought his way out of his boots. "I told you previously I understand. Besides, Onasi, I've always known you're going to wake up one day and be madly in love with me."

"Ego, woman, massive ego," he said. I laughed.

"I'm not the one who thinks he can single handedly convince a gal he alone is worth more than commanding an entire galaxy." He grinned, was shaking his head as he lowered himself into the water. Unfortunately, he had already been wearing swim trunks so I didn't get to see him change, which likely would have been awkward for him and amusing to me. "I think Jolee might be right on this one. Enjoy what you can while you can." Live while you're still alive. He waded closer and I used the poolside com to order us up some drinks.

I wanted to touch him, hold him. I loved him. Sad as it is, this was actually a revelation to me. An epiphany. But there was fear growing in the back of my mind, not of the journey, or of Malak, or of tempting dark power, but of myself. Of Revan. I couldn't commit to him without resolving issues with that other woman in my skin. In a way, this was cruel to him, promising something that I had no intention of giving. But I wanted this, wanted him, here, before we set off to greet infinity.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_Unknown Planet_

It was the same grey world and the same grey temple. Color invaded the serenity of the uniform, calming monochrome. Her eyes were still the silver of room of waterfalls, her skin that creamy perfection. What glinted in red, what destroyed the peace of these dreams, was her double lightsaber. She twirled it in an absent manner, simple, innate, much like I had on Taris at the swoop track. Her posture, her movements, her facial expressions, even the plain but darkly applied makeup were hauntingly familiar.

Of course, they should be. They were me, painted in her skin. I had spoken with her much and we talked of many things. The Star Forge, Malak, weakness, darkness, death. Malak, we decided, was weak. He should be indulged until he found our lightsaber lodged in his back. My empire, my strength, my anger. She spoke to others, frequently, about me. "I am coming, Bastila. Murderer. Child. You have made me proud."

True pleasure spread about her face. "I shall be there for you, Master. I will be waiting with bated breath. You are worthy where he is not. You are strong where he is weak. You are cunning. He lacks tact. Together, my Master, we will own this galaxy."

I spoon fed her more lies. I did have to admit that there was something… smug in seeing her like this. After all her talk of never, after all her taunts as to my leash, her staunch support in the Jedi council in this momentous decision of theirs. Oh, I will agree, it was dark of me. But unlike my alter ego, I made no claims to the light. Not yet. So, I accept that a part of me wanted to hurt her for bringing me to be hurt. I was angry, hurt, felt betrayed, felt like I had been failed. By the Jedi, with all their vaunted wisdom, to allow my Republic to die from their fear.

So I watched her sing my praises, tell me of her latest atrocities in the dueling room, and I smiled to myself, indulged my own petty feelings. She, who had been so high and mighty to me, had fallen. Granted, the circumstances were shaded against her. But they had been more shaded against me. She was so… young, despite only being a few years younger than myself. She had a grand naiveté even in her darkness. It would not be difficult to sway her back to me.

I was woken by a jarring of the ship. We crashed and it was sort of an 'oh shit' kind of mentality. It was funny that a simple disruptor shield had the ability to wipe out the vast majority of the Republic's fleets. Job one: shut off the field. Job two: repair the ship. Job three: find Bastila. Job four: kill Malak. You got to have priorities. I was a little iffy on the placement of the last two but I had an idea that I'd be able to accomplish them together.

I didn't want anyone stealing my ship, even if it was damaged. It was probably the least damaged ship on the planet and I'm sure there were other survivors left scattered about. So, I left HK-47 not on the ship but on the beach where we landed. I figured he'd find a nice hill somewhere and sniper off people who made a motion to burglar my ship. I also left more than half the crew behind to defend. Juhani, Carth, and Canderous came with me as I started off down the beach. We encountered a group of unknown aliens that looked an awful lot like that computer holograph on Kashyyyk. The builders. I shocked them with lightning a couple times and they fell to the ground.

Some panicked Duros gave us some information before running off. The builders were called Rakatans and there were Mandalorians left to fight. Talk about scattered to the four winds. I argued with one set of Rakatans and found them ill equipped to meet my needs of getting into that temple to likely shut off the disruptor field. We found a second set of the aliens that called themselves the Elders and while they were less impressed with me, they _could_ meet my needs. So, I went scurrying back to the likely to be angry tribesmen. We found the Mandalorians along the way and I boosted some very nifty armor from them. We also found some nice ship parts that looked like something we needed.

As predicted, the tribesmen Rakatans were angry with me and a beast intensive battle later, we headed out with a captured Elder in tow. I honestly wasn't paying much attention to the quests, the people, the places. I was focused on that temple and what lay inside, what lay on top. The Elders gave me a rather tired speech when Jolee decided he and Juhani were coming and I rather agreed with them. But Jolee seemed… agitated. Frantic. He was eventually allowed to join me, though Carth and Canderous weren't. I sent them back to repair the ship.

I rushed through the temple, like I knew where all the droids were, where all the disciples were. Puzzles were solved like habit; I jumped on the squares in the floor in the correct formation without even looking down. It was like I was dancing to music that no one else heard and wouldn't understand if they could hear it. No pause, no thought, simply goal and goal oriented activity. I strode through this place like I owned it, like it had been made for me. With Darth Revan's memories closer to the surface, the memory block having turned into sheer material, I felt comfortable. It wasn't like Korriban, a fight, fraught with fear, troubled by a question. I knew where they came from, and if I let them come without a fight, I didn't have to worry about memory outages.

We made it to the roof where the atmosphere changed. I don't think Jolee or Juhani truly felt what I did. But then… they weren't linked to her as I was. There was darkness and madness howling on that rooftop, screaming words at me that were better left unheard. Bastila was there, her presence, but it was secondary to the sense of self. The sense I had of Darth Revan. When I saw her, would I see myself peering out from her eyes? Force, what had I _done_?

None of this played out on my face and I headed towards her, knowing what I would find even before I saw her in her dark robes swirling that red saber in an absent motion. She looked just a little bored and when she raised her startling, warm grey eyes to me I saw both her and myself. Bastila's self righteous attitude, her smugness, her naiveté, the invincibility of youth or untested living, her charming stubbornness. The me in her was my arrogance, that tint of madness, and rage at where I was and how I got there, straining at the leash.

Juhani was surprised, both at Bastila's presence and her dark aura. Neither Jolee nor I were. We both knew this would happen. What I didn't expect was the darker version of myself to be hanging over her shoulder. But then, such things could be controlled. I tried pulling back on the bond between us, pulling Revan back into myself so that Bastila may be reasoned with. That was a mistake.

"You are a puppet now, Revan. Kept in line by fear of the darkside, living a lie. You are nothing more than the Jedi's slave. They reprogrammed you. They unmade you, destroyed you. They killed you in a very different way." For a moment, my blood chilled with how she worded that, using my words. Then, it rose in me. Rage.

Specifically, my rage. The Jedi, how dare they? They used dark tactics, wiped a person's mind, overlaid a new being, manipulated and converted and perverted to their own uses. They took a proud individual, me, and broke me down into nothing, made me do things I wouldn't have dreamed of doing. They forced ideals on me that were not my own. Carth was right. They took innocent people and threw them in with a very dangerous person, straining at a vicious collar on a leash held by a disillusioned child. They _dare_ speak to me of the dangers of the darkside, of the peril the Republic was in when they, _they_ would have _let_ them die in the Mandalorian wars. When they used dark tactics against me. They had me preach forgiveness when I was denied such. They abandoned the Republic, home, _my_ Republic.

Bastila had snapped at Juhani again, regal with my arrogance covering her self deprecation. She turned to me then. "Malak is weak, nothing before your grace. You could be as strong as I am now, stronger even." One of my eyebrows shot upward at that. "Forgive me, Master. You _are_ stronger, even hindered by the light. Join me, we could rule this galaxy," she corrected, giving the Devil her due. "You will never be able to remember, you were too damaged for that. But you can reclaim your former glory."

My former glory, the glory that was dancing in her voice and hanging on her shoulder, breathing down her neck. We locked eyes with identical expressions on our faces, determination. I raised one hand, flat palmed, implicit order for Juhani and Jolee to hang back. I swept forward, twin blades flashing. She smiled and rushed me.

We fought, flow in, flow out, fluid motions and long limbed grace. She swung her lightsaber at times one handed and it was my motion, born of my preference of twin sabers. I eventually smacked it from her hand, sent it twinkling away. "Join me, Master." The Dark Lord was roaring inside my head and I could hear the words now. Conquer. Vindicate. Take back what was taken from me, right those ills done against me, spend my rage in violence not supplication.

But Darth Revan had been a driven person, refusing to be used or manipulated, tightly controlled, arrogant. And I would not be controlled by the rage. "Bastila, I _know_ you will return to the light." I also knew, with some certainty, that despite what she said, I would remember all. I would rise whole. I shook that thought off, that specter of the future. She looked confused.

"Then you will be crushed!" she hissed, snapping her lightsaber to her by use of the Force and running off. Her little shuttle rocketed out of the sky, and I found the computer necessary to shutting off the field. I left then, swirling in my dark colored robes, heading back towards the stairs. Juhani and Jolee were both giving me weird looks.

"What?" I asked, confused. Jolee spoke carefully.

"I sensed something here. Darth Revan, her darkness, but it did not come from you. This was a close call," he said, obviously worrying over the Star Forge. But I had plans for that. We headed back to the ship, a little worried, a little sick at heart. Well, they were. I was strangely calm having held back my own rage. I was confident, sure of myself and the outcome of the next battle. I was also fairly positive I could find a way to pull my own darkness and madness back into myself at the most opportune time; and, it revolved around a phenomenon I had felt before.

The crew was waiting for us on the beach and HK had chosen to sniper from the top of the hull. He was still up there when the three of us sauntered up. Carth spoke first. "The ship is repaired. What happened? Are you alright? Did you find out something about Bastila?" he asked. I must have looked a touch pale, because he sounded worried.

"Bastila has… fallen to the darkside," I paused, uncertain of how to proceed. "And, it's my fault," I finished softly. Jolee immediately took over the explanation.

"Bastila was always stubborn, impatient. When she bonded with you, she saw your memories. And your taint."

"Well, Revan rejected the darkside. There's still hope for Bastila," Carth protested. Had I returned this hope to him? He had not always been this optimistic. But then, maybe he knew what I knew.

"She will return to the light," I stated, simple fact.

"I don't think Bastila's role in this is over. She will no doubt be on the Star Forge," Juhani said. Which was rather obvious, but I didn't remark on it.

"For a moment there," Jolee trailed off, his voice soft. "I'm just glad you're still with us because we need you." I had a suspicion here. He usually wasn't tactless, so I think he was trying to let Carth know in a subtle way what happened on the top of that temple. Carth picked up on it immediately, his eyes narrowed at Jolee, his mind on that choice he knew I would have to face.

"What? What happened?"

"Bastila tried to tempt her back to the darkside, tempt her to reclaim her throne," Juhani explained. I was staring at me feet when he looked at me.

"Guys, could we have a moment?" I asked. Jolee nodded and started corralling the others inside.

"I'll go get the launch started," Canderous said. He stopped close to me, put a hand on my shoulder. "It's about damn time." I raised an eyebrow as if to say mind your own business. He chuckled his way into the ship. I eventually raised my eyes to Carth.

"She did offer me my old position, like we knew she would," I began. He slid closer, shaking his head.

"Don't you see? I knew it; I knew you weren't Revan anymore. I'm… I'm proud of you," he said, raising one of his roughened hands to my face. I think I began shaking then. He said I wasn't Revan. But it was _because_ I was Revan that I pulled away on that rooftop. I could not escape her. I could not purge her from my memory, could not stop from becoming her. And I didn't know if she meant him or me or the Republic harm. He folded my trembling form into his arms, burring one hand through my shorn hair. "I love you," he said, soft, denying it no longer.

"I love you, too," I said, also unable to deny it any longer, horrified. I was Revan. I would hurt him. I couldn't stay with him. And yet, I needed him, I loved him. Force help me.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_The Star Forge_

Admiral Dodonna felt she had to ask if we would kindly land and 'help' the Jedi stop Bastila. Just try to keep me away. He coordinated it, planned, and I ignored that area. I meditated, readied myself. Spent the wait in quiet meditation like a good little Jedi and tried not to think of the guy in the next room whose bones I wanted to jump and who would probably die in the upcoming battle. No, I had much funnier things to deal with. Like my rage and sense of betrayal. Sometimes I hated life, other times I just mildly disliked it.

So, the Jedi had used Revan and created me, but she is I, and I know that. I know it is the same personality, the same flaws, the same dedication, and the source of my love of the Republic, my reason to fight, her reason to fight. The Jedi betrayed her, me, for the right reasons, though. To save the Republic. Worthy cause. So, move on. Betrayal. I betrayed them first, so didn't that mean all bets were off? Then popped up the question of who betrayed who first, Revan with her Sith or the Jedi with their non-involvement in the Mandalorian wars? I had no good answers for that one, but if I didn't want others to hold a grudge, then neither should I. Besides, that soft, hesitant voice that Zhar used when speaking to me spoke of regret, love. But in the end, the Jedi Order was not worth the Republic; and, spite of them would not keep me from saving the other.

I would not be taken by surprise again. I was ready for Bastila, ready for Revan. And, ready for Malak. I was getting more and more useful at recovering useful memories and I was just positive that I could take him down easily. Like I had done thousands of times before, in one form or another. Fighting him would be like breathing and Revan, me, we always played for keeps. Carth knocked and it was time to go.

Again, I left half of them behind to protect my ship. I wanted to get off the bucket before it went down. I stepped off the ramp and two things hit me at once. The first was that the Ebon Hawk had an aura to it, a sense, a feeling. It was like a far off bark of laughter, the whir of a familiar air conditioner, well known footsteps and a creek in the fifth stair. It wasn't lightsided, but it was familiar, home. It was all our anxiety and fear pushed aside because, while on the Hawk and traveling through space, there wasn't much we could do rather than prepare and play.

The second thing that hit me was the contrast of the Star Forge. The Star Forge had a different aura, staggering to the other Jedi, familiar to me. Except, it felt _different_ and since I couldn't remember what it was suppose to feel like, that seemed odd to me. But the Star Forge had been a tool to Darth Revan, like so many places, so many people. It wasn't as old and deep rooted as Korriban, as loyal as Yuthura. This place was filled with people who didn't worship me, was useful but only to someone else now. It had a new Master and was mine no longer. Strangely, that was heartening.

We headed out and they followed me. I didn't need directions or a map. I could look down and see my feet in the armored boots of Darth Revan. It might have made them uneasy, but why should I not be easy inside my own mind? I entered a door that snapped shut behind me, closing them off. But I knew it would. Bastila waxed poetic about potential, prestige, the darkness, and the good old days. We fought and I kept the conversation rolling. It was so much more distracting to her than it was to me.

Eventually I knocked her weapon aside, knocked her down, pressed my saber to her throat close enough that she'd be burned if I kept it there for any period of time. It was definitely a pose of control, more symbolic than anything else. She glared defiantly at me. I snapped my saber off and grabbed her head in the flat of my palm, tangling my fingers in her hair, forcing her to look at me. She whispered my name, my real name. I breathed in, pulled myself from her. My darkness, my madness, my taint, my mean thoughts and rage and hard living poured into me like water downstream. Natural. Easy. As planned by both of my egos. I didn't struggle with my other self so much as let her fill me.

"Bastila, you need to help the Republic. You need to put your talents to good use. You need to stop pretending to be something you're not." She looked a little defiant, like she wanted to counter what I had said. I shook my head, through of such nonsense. I started slow, reciting to her the Jedi code. Before I made it to the last line she had joined me.

"There is such… peace in it, harmony," she said. I nodded. "Simple words."

"Powerful, none the less. I find them less of a code or a guideline but more of a focusing mantra. Bastila, I know you wanted to follow me to war when I left for the Mandalorian wars. I had wanted to follow Master Kae when she left in earlier times. You must fight for what you love sometimes. The Sith tend to loose sight of what they love as much as the Jedi do. The Jedi are taught not to love and the Sith are taught not to care. But you care, Bastila, as much as you love."

"I cannot _be_ redeemed," she said, "I have gone too far." She sounded serious. I laughed.

"Then I suppose it is a good thing you never fell. Go, Carth will be waiting for you and Malak awaits me." She nodded and went one was as I went the other. As I thought, I found Malak waiting for me, arms crossed over his lean but impressive chest, eyes fixed on the door I entered through. He spoke to me of who I was, as though his words could bring her out. He spoke of all the things that cause her rage. And I felt nothing.

Well, that's not technically true. When he spoke of who I was, I felt Revan cringe away. It had taken me a while to figure it through, that the Sith Lord had felt love, deeply. That she had known this man her entire life and had let no one else near her guarded heart. And she didn't want to resurface and kill him in a fit of dark rage and she didn't want to be present when I did so for her. When Malak spoke of my rage, all those spots of contention with the Jedi Order, they failed against my shield of logic. He eventually stopped talking when that bored look of mine persisted.

We fought and it was like I thought it would be. Natural. Breathing. Second nature to bat him aside. Then he pulled my attention to soldiers of light felled by death, held back from any form of afterlife. He pulled the life from one to heal himself and he was still gloating when I raised a hand and destroyed all of the rest with the controlled lightning that always came so easy to me. He attacked again, a little more desperate, a little more serious. But he was no match for us, me.

As he lay dying, I walked to him, knelt beside him. My hand smoothed along his head in that age old gesture. "Stop this. Let me heal you; let me take you back with me; return, Malak," I said. For a moment, I thought he would with his eyes closed, his butchered face leaning towards my palm. But like before he slapped my hand away. The Forge lurched in a way that let me know that Bastila was using her Battle Meditation for all the right reasons and a little too well. His eyes were closed and I didn't bother to check further. I needed out of there now. I met up with my crew in the hallway beyond and we booked. We made it off in time to see the Star Forge blow up and paint the sky in dazzling colors.

**Epilogue**

_The Ebon Hawk_

We were headed back to Coruscant for my possible trial/exoneration and/or victory party. We were also invited to parties on several different ships. I passed the offer on but declined personally. My crew thus just decided to get drunk and be idiots here, which was amusing for a couple nights. Oh hell, it was amusing for more than just a couple nights and got old after about a week. Yes, Darth Revan (me) and her fleet had been defeated.

Sleeping at night was not a fun thing for me. They weren't my dreams; they were hers. And they were bloody. Carth keeps asking what I dreamt about, what was it, what new memory. I'm not sure how to answer these questions or if I even want to. I had other dreams that were mine, because in them my greatest fear is played out in stereo. Me, waking as her, killing the man who slept beside me, taking up my gauntlet and crushing all I had worked to save. I didn't think these dreams had any substance to them, even if I knew I would eventually wake as Revan. And still… I feared.

There was a growing sense of unease in me, a need to bolt. I felt, no, I sensed that there was something out there, something unseen. Some great enemy that I needed to defeat. I was not done. I knew there was something to do, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what. Late, late at night, deep in sleep, I can see it behind some glossy curtain, something horrible and grand. If it didn't come to me soon, I would go to it.


End file.
